The Black Lion
by Commander Shadestorm
Summary: Arraon Hill was born the first-born son of Tywin Lannister, but his bastard with no rights. As he navigates his way through the Game of Thrones, he may find that he has the heart, and the courage, of a Lion. Disclaimers: OC, AU/ Canon Divergence, Slight Chronological Mismatching (As in a few events are changed around along with ages, dates, etc. Though nothing too serious I hope)
1. Chapter 1- Arraon I

**The Black Lion of Lannister**

_By Commander Shadestorm_

Chapter One- Arraon

There were times- albeit not many- but a few where Arraon Hill was glad he had been born a bastard. He felt secure in the knowledge that this was one of them. He poured another skin of wine from a flask that he had reached from under the nose of Addam Marbrand. It wasn't like he was going to notice, every page and squire was paying attention to the procession. Lord Serett had travelled to their Rock to arrange a marriage between his daughter and Uncle Tygett. As Addam looked on Arraon Hill sipped on the skin, were this any other night neither father nor the Lady Joanna would have dared to allow him this much wine, but they were preoccupied at present.

Father had took his Lady in his arm and waked past the rows of guests at the betrothal feast. He looked the way he always did; tall, strong, imposing. He was everything that Arraon could aspire to become. There were countless times when he had seen his father give men commands and they obeyed, for they dare not disobey. Half the time it barely seemed as if he noticed them, the Lion of Lannister had no need to concern himself with them. Though when Father gave one of his cold glances in his direction, he cast the skin aside but picked it up again once he had passed on. Though Arraon had never saw it with his own eyes he had heard about his father's prowess as a warrior, how he had slew the Red Lion of Castamere with his brothers by his side, how he watched as Tarbeck Hall came crashing down. He was so ruthless, he was the Hand of the King though most knew it was Father who ruled the Kingdoms, not the King. There were so many things he knew about his father and so many things he wanted to do to get the same looks he gave Jaime.

Though he could not hear them Father whispered something into Lady Joanna's ear which caused her to giggle. Lady Joanna. It had been made clear to Arraon from the earliest age what he was; a bastard. Lady Joanna had not given birth to him, and father had never told him who his mother was. Every time he planned the time and energy to approach father on the subject, he was always in some private council with his soldiers before he returned to King's landing. When he was gone however, Lady Joanna had always treated him with the same love she gave to her own children. When he needed help, she gave it; when he was hurt, she tended to him with a helping hand and a gentle smile, with those lying eyes. He always knew to look into her eyes and when he did he saw something else. It was especially apparent when he beat Jaime at just about anything outside the training ring. Whether it was geometry or writing or anything else, Lady Joanna would congratulate him but within those deep emerald eyes was something foreign, something bitter towards him. Eyes that said 'What right do you have, bastard?' no matter what her lips might have uttered in their stead. But, he could not complain. He had heard about bastards that were completely isolated from their families and were sat below them all the time; he was fortunate that he was allowed to claim a chair upon the high table beside his half-brother and sister. It was something that he could be fortunate for and was well aware that the only reason he was here tonight was that it was improper to seat a bastard along with highborn guests. But whether half or full, he was of Lannister blood and could wait for tonight. As they walked towards the High table, Lord Serett and his daughter followed suit, his three sons behind them with their own wives. After them, Cersei and Jaime strode in their crimson outfits side by side as they always were

If you spent any time in the Rock, it would become apparent to them that father's children spent a lot of time together. An unusual amount of time together, 'inseparable' was the word that their septa had used. How little they knew. Jaime paced forward with all the grace he had been born with as a Lannister. His head was held high and his curls fell around his ears, but he gave a sympathetic glimpse towards Arraon. Arraon raised his skin to him and drank deep from it. Jaime looked as if he was going to say something but a tug from Cersei derailed his attention. Being born to House Lannister both of them had been born to swordplay, yet Ser Benedict knew that Jaime was the superior swordsman between them. He had begun to speculate that Jaime would be out of training swords in two years; at the age of nine. Though both of them could beat any other challenge that had come to them. He smiled as he remembered the Roggett squire. On his nameday some overzealous squire had challenged Lord Tywin's five year olds; they had enjoyed knocking him into the dirt. Jamie had always been unconcerned with the nature of Arraon's birth and for that he could love him forever. Their sweet sister on the other hand, was less approachable to him.

Though she was a pretty enough girl to look at, there was little else that could be said about her. His only chance seemed to be to stay around Jaime as she seemed to warm up when her arm was locked in his. Things changed once father made a return visit from King's Landing; Maester Creylen told him Jaime was having difficulty reading, he wondered if Creylen had expounded on his own accomplishments over his brother, and father resorted to teaching Jaime for four hours each day. When he was forced to return to King's landing, Creylen took up the mantle. Cersei only became more off-putting in her resolve to remind Arraon who he was; a Hill. He glugged down the rest of the skin as he remembered on of his most profound memories. During a morning session with Maester Creylen between the three of them, he had given them a list of all the Targaryen Kings and their hands during history lessons and recommended being able to recite them. After a sparring match with Jaime, which he lost, Arraon could not help but notice Cersei and the cackling coven that clutched to her heels like lost puppies, Melara Hetherspoon to whom he had offered a rose to and Jeyene Farman, who loved lemon cakes more than her own mother, observing their actions that day but he had never paid any notice to it.

He had spent the rest of that day in his chambers revising the list, reciting and recanting until he was certain he was able to repeat them for the family. That night at the High table, Creylen had motioned to him to begin. Arraon had taken his place before his father and started all the way from Aegon the Conqueror and Orys Baratheon to King Jaehaerys and Ormond Baratheon. He may have faltered around the multiple hands of the more indecisive kings but his father's stare gave no indication of disappointment. But as was usual, there was no confidence there. Once he had finished Uncle Gerion gave a laugh, commenting that he knew them so well "perhaps you should rule as Hand, and your father can stay here. You can recite the better than any of us could have." Though he appreciated the encouragement from his bright eyes uncle, he couldn't have cared less. Fathers' was the only opinion he concerned himself with. After Gerion had given his piece, he spoke up. "Perhaps you are right. Any Lannister should know of those who have been in power, in order to better overcome them." If there was even the slightest chance that he had inspired some modicum of pride in his father, he would treasure it forever. He thanked his father and was happier than he had ever been. Until Cersei chose to remind everyone there that Jaime had "knocked Hill into the dirt." Tywin shot a disapproving glance towards his children; even Gerion did not smile throughout the prickly silence that enveloped the rest of the feast.

"_Gods, I need another skin."_ Arraon thought to himself as Gerion and Kevan took their seats at the table. No one would notice if the bastard took his leave. He quietly stood up and retreated from the Hall. Were it any other castle in Westeros outside the Great Hall would lead you outside to the courtyard; not in Casterly Rock. King Loreon had mined a new section of his Rock for his Great Hall where the light of day could not reach it but only the torches that decorated the rocky confines of Casterly Rock. As Arraon passed beneath the great doors with the banners of the Golden Lion and the Green Peacock halved, displayed upon either side with Red Clocks in Lion crested Helms armed with spears guarding the Hall. Outside was a square hall adorned with wall art made from pure gold, mined from the Rock itself. Lesser pages and household guards swarmed among this place, laughing uproariously amongst themselves. Eventually he came across a stray bottle of wine. "_Perfect, not exactly Arbor red but it'll do."_ He uncorked a bottle until the familiar voice appeared from behind him. "You're a little young for this type of stuff, aren't you?" Arraon spun around to see the scarred cheek of his uncle.

"Uncle Tygett! Shouldn't you be at the feast?" he asked, setting the wine to the side.

"Shouldn't you, nephew?"

"Who will notice if a Hill's missing from the pride?"

"Your father, for one. He saw you leave the Hall." He pointed out.

Arraon shrugged it off. "Shouldn't you be with your new wife?"

"No, little one. Lord Marbrand is unsatisfied with Ty's dowry offer. He will return to Ashemark on the morrow. A bachelor I shall remain." He smirked at Arraon. "Besides, she wasn't that pretty anyway."

"Do you think I'll have a pretty wife one day?" he asked his uncle expectantly, Tygett pursed his lips but placed his hand on Arraon's shoulder.

"Your father will get you a fine match, I promise and a promise is as good as our debts." But he took his hand off and wrapped his arm around his chestnut eyed nephew. "Anyway, it's a little early to be thinking about that. Come with me, I have something to show you." He instructed, Arraon following behind him through the endless rocky halls of the Rock adorned with crimson tapestries and golden lions. Once they came upon his chambers, Tygett told Arraon to wait to the side while he reached into a drawer and pulled a Leather bound book out of it. It was an ornate design, with a golden strap in the shape of a strange foreign seal. Upon its surface was etched _"The paths of Warfare,"_ and beneath that was engraved "_Sansui Taisho." _Arraon looked over the tome, it wasn't that old. The pages still seemed relatively new, he wouldn't have guessed any more than ten years old.

"I don't understand uncle, why are you giving this to me?" he inquired.

His uncle pushed the sword he wore to one side, taking a knee to him. "This book is a collection of tomes from Sansui Taisho; a great warrior from the Rising Kingdom far to the east. One of the greatest generals of his day, the Maesters place his life at the time of the Andal Invasion of the east." He explained. "It documents the ways of personal warfare, battlegrounds, wartime economic decisions and campaigns. I want you to keep it."

"Why me, uncle? Wouldn't this go to Jaime? He's the heir."

"I know what it's like to live in a brother's shadow." Tygett murmured to himself, a glance cast into the distance, but his eyes shot up again practically immediately. "Make sure you treasure this book. A translation wasn't easy to find."

"I will uncle; thank you. I will learn to recite it off." He promised.

"I know you will. Now, we should be getting back to the feast. Perhaps they'll have missed us by now." He smiled. With the book under his arm, and Tygett's hand on his shoulder, Arraon had a newfound love for his uncle that day.

/

While growing up in Casterly Rock the trio had spent the majority of their childhood in a nursery made for them. Since then, the room had been changed for a more 'adolescent' image. The fireplace was always burning, the blood red curtains were eternally drawn and the walls were adorned with shelves. Before the fire was a sofa, a crimson carpet before that. Arraon Hill was on one side of the couch with "_The path of warfare" _in one hand, a small glass of Arbor gold swirling around in the other. His gaze peered over the edge of the book to look at his beloved siblings across from him. Jaime sat with Cersei's head nestled along his shoulder, his fingers draped through her hair. Jaime's eyes were half shut in a world of his own. Cersei was much more alert, her emerald eyes gazing up at her twin, her brother. _Her lover,_ a treacherous snake of a voice echoed in the back of his head. She raised her hand to run her hand across his arms. The scene would have been cute, every young highborn maiden's ideal fantasy. All except for the fact that it was an unholy abomination to all the Faith held dear. Arraon felt it was time to bring up this concern to them.

"Don't you two _ever_ worry that you'll get caught?" he inquired of them, the liquid in his gold tipped glass beginning to spill over the top of the goblet.

"Hmm, no. I don't believe so." Jaime responded, surprisingly casually as he smiled at Cersei again. Arraon wondered if Jaime knew the Ice that lay beneath her sunny visage.

"Well perhaps you should start. You don't know what could happen." Arraon warned.

"Arraon, you're being ridiculous. What's the worst that could happen?" Jamie smirked

"Wasn't that what you said when you thought jumping from the white cliffs was a good idea?"

"It was a good idea until you told father." Cersei pointed out

"Then perhaps you two shouldn't have skipped geometry." He argued.

"We didn't ask you to come." She pointed out.

"Cersei, Arraon, stop." Jaime commanded, an authority in his voice that spoke of a lord. "We're supposed to be a family, we shouldn't be fighting."

"The bastard started it." She mumbled. There were many times where those words might have sent him away, might have sent him into a fit, might have made him cry. Not any longer, his only option was to ignore Cersei and her insults. He was thankful for the fact that Jaime was moving away from her at least, though as he turned the pages he noticed their bodies were inching towards one another again. It was like he could hardly keep away from her. Within a short time, their bodies were pressed against one another again. Arraon could do little but sigh and refill his empty glass. As he turned back, he saw his thumb was stroking across her cheek as their lips passionately and violently met with one another, with her arms around his neck. At that moment the door snapped open and a servant walked in. "M'lords, supper-" she began but once she saw Cersei and Jaime wrapped amongst one another she immediately turned tail and rushed out. For the first time in their lives, the three of them exchanged a look in total agreement: utter and complete shock and dread.

"And you are certain that is what you saw?" Lady Joanna calmly pronounced before her children and her husband's bastard.

"Aye, milady. Your children were together; like sailors and whores on the quay." The maid who had found them explained to Lady Joanna. It was not long until they had been summoned to her chambers. They could count themselves lucky Father was on the other side of the continent.

"Thank you, Jeyne. You are dismissed. Make sure you tell no one about this."

"Aye, milady." She bowed as she left the room. It left the room in an uncomfortable silence, with Lady Joanna having her twins directly in front of her, each trying to lock their hands with one another. Arraon stood lightly to the side, all of them trying to avoid their mother's gaze, which seemed to pierce them more now than their Lord Fathers' ever had.

"Do any of you have an explanation for this disgusting behaviour?" she very calmly asked, yet there was an unmistakeable sharpness in her voice, steel in her expression. "Jaime? Cersei? Arraon? Do any of you realise the problem you have created for me, for our family? Well?" There was no response any of them could give. "If you wish to remain silent about this, I will be left with no choice but to tell your lord father." She warned.

"_No! Father will see me as a traitor to our family!" _was the first thought that flashed through Arraon's head being followed in quick succession with Cersei crying out "No mother, please! We will be in so much trouble if father finds out!"

"Do you think you can expect me to keep such a thing secret?" she snapped, as her eyes turned from her daughter to her son. "Jaime, have you anything to say?"

"No, mother." He shook his head as he raised his eyes to meet his mothers.

She gave a laugh, hollow and humourless. "Do either of you have _any_ idea how serious this is? You are acting like you were born Targaryen, not of House Lannister" she cried as she began to lower a hand towards her belly but halted midway as her fist clenched. "Guard!" she called, and a helmless red cloak entered without hesitation.

"My Lady." He bowed.

"Escort Lord Jaime to a new set of chambers on the other side of Casterly Rock, by the armoury." She commanded, unable to set her eyes on her children.

"Yes my lady, come along little lord." He responded as Jaime reluctantly left the room giving his twin, his 'other half' as they called one another, a last look as the guard's hand pulled him out of the room.

"But mother please!" Cersei cried in defeat as her mother raised a hand to her.

"Do not even start, my daughter. Do you realise what how fortunate you are that it was I who was made aware of this and not your father? You would be wise to thank the Gods he is serving as hand to the king. You are to return to your chambers and are not to leave for the rest of the night. I will be placing a guard outside your door, I will only permit you to leave for meals and lessons with the Septa. If I catch wind of anything, _anything_ like this again and I promise you, I will tell your father. Do you understand, do you?"

"Yes mother." She casually submitted.

"You are young, and there are some things you may be interested about, curious about. These should not be among them. You would do well to stray from these thoughts unless they should become the ruin of you. Now go, return to your needlework." Her mother warned. Cersei gave a disingenuous curtsey before leaving the room and her twin. All in all, Arraon considered this to be a rather successful day. He turned to leave before Lady Joanna spoke up. "Arraon, remain for a minute."

"Yes, my lady."

"You were with them. Why did you not stop them, or at least try?"

"My lady, I-"

"Mother." She sighed. "Call me mother, Arraon."

"But _my lady_, I'm…I…" he began as he fumbled over his words.

"You're what?"

"A bastard." He whispered.

"And? I may not have given birth to you, but I fed you at the breast. I have raised you along with my own children. If you are not my son in that right, then I cannot know who you are." She smiled at him.

"Thank you, my lady." He responded, making sure to place the emphasis on those last two words. Her emerald eyes gave a cold hint to them after that.

"How long have you known about Cersei and Jaime?"

"I don't think there's been a time when they haven't been involved in this way."

"Have you told your father?"

"No, my lady."

"I can be fortunate for that, at least."

"What will you do with the servant?"

"Jeyne?" she asked.

"Well, she'll likely tell anyone she knows as gossip. That will travel into the streets of Lannisport, through the Goldroad to the capital, the spider and father." He argued.

"Yes, I see your point. I will consider it. Thank you." She smiled at him. He turned to leave but she called him once again, causing him to spin his head around. "I want you to keep an eye on Jaime."

"Jaime?"

"Something tells me this problem isn't going away any time soon. Keep him aware, away from Cersei. Promise me you will do that Arraon."

"I promise."

"Very well, off you go." She beamed. The way she smiled at them.

/

The Sunset sea that lay before Casterly Rock and Lannisport always shimmered beneath the dawn and the crashing waves that glistened beneath the sun were most evidently seen at midday as they thundered upon the base of Casterly rock. Arraon could recollect a time within the bowels of their rock when the trio was looking at the aging lions that dwelled there, a legacy of their grandfather. Within a few years the lions that lived there would die out. Cersei wasn't that concerned; she had even called Jaime a coward for refusing to pull his mane. She hadn't called Arraon cowardly after that. During that time a raging thunderstorm could be heard from all around them. A guardsmen rumoured that the ghost of Lann the clever haunted the rock still. Anyone else would have put together that it was the waves from outside.

Arraon loved the waves, he loved the sea, and he loved the open water. The only time he had openly defied his father was to accompany his uncle on "_The Laughing Lion,"_ through a journey sailing around the bays surrounding Lannisport on a journey to Kayce. Once they had returned his father had summoned him; his eyes hard, his words harder. "_So, you wish to sail? You wish to be a fisherman, is that it?"_

"_Father-"_he had begun to argue

"_No, you are my son. Not some unwashed Ironborn marauder. You wish to participate in our fleet. Very well."_ For the rest of that day, Arraon had been made to wash the decks of the ships in the fleet. It was backbreaking work; but it was all worth it for a mere glimpse of flying through the winds of the sea.

It would have seemed rather hypocritical of him as one of Father's favourite pastimes was to fish along the straits of Lannisport, but Father must have had his reasons. He was lucky enough that this day father was gracious enough to allow Arraon to accompany him on his trip today. He would likely have taken Lady-. He would likely have taken mother with him on the barge with him but the day of the child's birth was fast approaching and Jaime was in additional lessons with Maester Creylen. Cersei had gone to Lannisport with her own little retinue for the day. It would just be them alone, bar a few Red cloaks but what did they matter?

The barge left Casterly Rock in the distance as they moved towards a cove in the distance. "Why are we around here father?"

"For one reason or another, the Lannisport smells seem to repel fish and they gather in their own areas. It's hardly relevant; once you have found them, all that is left is for the lion to pounce." He had explained, Arraon simply nodded. Peering over the edge of their craft, Arraon noticed waves of silver shapes flashing beneath them. They stopped to the entrance of a small cove, facing the late summer sun and the vast reaches of the Sunset Sea. Father gave the guards a look and they disappeared from view. "Now, I assume you wish to learn the art of angling?" Father asked him as he removed his gloves and pulled up his sleeves.

"Yes father." He responded as Father took a rod and a case to Arraon. The next while was spent between the two of them as Lord Tywin taught him. They began with the way to attach bait, worms from the Lannisport hills in this case, and moved onto the appropriate ways to cast a line into the water. After a few demonstrations, and especially the ruthless way his father finished the creatures off. Father could recite the entirety of "_The Seven pointed Star,_" and have that determined look in his eye that made him the ruthless figure he was.

"Now; your turn." He commanded of his son, slouching down in his makeshift stool with his interlocked fingers between his legs as he observed Arraon's actions. He lifted the road above him but paused just as he was to cast the line but his father's words stopped him. "No, Arraon. You cannot hesitate, once you set down a path it must be taken." An inkling told him this advice was not exclusive to angling. "Now try again." His father instructed him. Once again he threw the hook line back over his head and cast it forward into the cove's water. "Better. Better." His father observed. "Now set the rod into the stand." He complied with that order.

"Now what, father?" he asked.

"The most important aspect of this craft; patience, endurance and complacency." His father explained as he arranged the strings of their poles in a more orderly matter. The next few minutes were occupied by silence as Arraon tried to muster up some degree of courage in order to progress, but every time he could even open his mouth to try and force a word out, a glance from his father's pale green eyes destroyed any chance of that. Every time their eyes met Arraon could do naught but remain silent in the presence of his foreboding gaze. Ultimately the line tugged and Father reached out to pull on the line as a silver trout leapt out of the water flapping onto the deck of their barge. Father uncooked it and grabbed it by the tail as he cracked it against a nearby rock as it fell limp in his hands in one swift stroke. He didn't even break a sweat. "Why did you come out here today?"

"Father?"

"You didn't have to join me today. I want to know why." He asked, no commanded, as he reattached the pole to its place. Truth be told, he did have a purpose here. He had hoped to warm his father up in order to ask about his mother. It wasn't something he needed to become aware of, but he wanted, he _wanted_ to know_._ For certain, he had to know who or what his mother was. His vision of her could never remain consistent. At times, he saw a highborn lady with caring eyes and curls in her hair. Other times, it was a soldier in the Lannister guard so devoted to House Lannister she had undertook that risk and his father had recognised and returned her service. Sometimes it was a common whore that had warmed his father's bed during the lonely nights of King's landing. He did not have those thoughts often.

"Well, I did want to know about…" he fumbled over his words. "S-swordplay, father."

"Swordplay." His father spat, casting his gaze deep into the cove. "Tyg gave you that foreign book. The art of…"

"_The paths of Warfare,_ Father." He explained.

"So how does it differ from our own swordsmen?" he asked as he glanced at the unmoving fish line.

"Well, Ser benedict says that a sword is like an extension of yourself and should be treated as such…" he began, a tad more confident now.

"Correct, my own master-at-arms taught me as such when I was a boy. How does this Sansui differ?"

"Sansui Taisho says that life is arbitrary, along with everything in it. Your foes should be treated as if they do not matter, for they do not." He quoted, Uncle Tygett gave him a sweet for every quote and a silver stag if he could recite the five laws of war. _Morality, Heaven Earth, The Commander and the Method_, he reassured himself, just to be certain.

"He sounds like a fascinating man." He mumbled as the line jerked again, his father spent little time in repeating the cycle of events that put another fish in the basket. "Though an impractical practice for actual warfare."

"He won a battle outmatched five to two at the siege of Zonal." He argued, but his father's cold glare seemed to have less of an impact now.

"Perhaps he did, but prattling of eastern Maesters has no place on the battlefield."

"He included descriptions for his own swords, _katanas."_

"Katanas, I've heard of them. Longer, straighter, sharper." A golden sparkle appeared in his father's eye.

"Yes, father." Arraon agreed.

"But there is something else-"he stopped as he looked over at the tugging line. "Arraon, your turn." Arraon stepped up and grabbed the rod as the red tipped trout flew out of the water. He grabbed the slippery tail as it almost slipped out of his fingers, but he gripped it with the opposing hand and smashed it over the rock, but it remained moving so he repeated the action yet the life remained within it and it took a third crack to finally end the thing. When he was done, its body was twisted and mangled but even then a certain sense of pride swelled within him. "A poor attempt for your fist try, but you will improve." His father told him as he smiled at his father. He did not return the gesture. "But there is something else you are not asking me." Arraon was aware of the "_State it," _that went unsaid.

"Actually, it's…it's…" _My mother, my mother, mother "_about my…my…" _mother, mother, my mother. _No matter how many times he went over it, the words could not be forced out of his mouth so he simply blurted them out. "Itsaboutmymother."

"What?"

"It's, my mother." He explained. The golden sparkle that had been in his father's eye had now vanished, in its place the cruel pale of those fine cut emeralds.

"Your mother." He whispered as he turned away from Arraon's gaze, staring forward into the waters of the darkened cove. "What do you want to know?"

"Who is she, does she know who I am? Is she even alive?" he pleaded. His father refused to meet his eyes and continued to stare forward. Once more, the line twitched but as his father moved his hand forward it was Arraon that got his hand on the rod first. It only took one snap this time.

"No." was the final answer his father gave as he reattached the pole. "No, not today. I can't, I simply can't." It was at this point that Father's eyes met his. "I promise you; someday we will talk about your mother, but not on this day. I think we're done here for today. Take the fish to the kitchens, we'll have them for supper." He explained as he stepped up and walked off. _Someday,_

_One day,_

_One day…_


	2. Chapter 2- Arraon II

**Chapter Two-Arraon**

To become a knight, it was required that two tasks be completed; the hopeful in question must be acknowledged as having completed a task worthy of the great honour by any knight from the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to the lowliest Hedge Knight. The second requirement was standing a vigil in a Sept for seven days and seven nights to demonstrate your devotion to the gods, the seven patrons of each aspect of life in the Six Kingdoms. Arraon and Jaime had always dreamt of becoming the greatest pair of knights in the realm. Jaime had always knew he was an expert fighter, he called himself an artist with a sword and there was no denying it. When he griped the handle, he would paint any arena with a sharp brush in the deepest red. Or some other poetic nonsense.

Arraon, on the other hand, saw himself as a singer with swords. For his eighth nameday, their father had three swords prepared. One was for Jaime, a hilt with a Lion's jaw devouring the blade made of castle forged steel with Casterly Gold in ornate designs around the hilt with a diamond imbedded in the grip, bound by leather. Three months earlier, he had given Arraon his. These were not Westerosi longswords but based on the designs of weapons in "_The Paths of Warfare_." _Katana _was the closest translation available, they were longer, sharper and thinner than most swords available as they were folded over in the smithing process more. Arraon always fought best when he had two swords in each of his hands. Their pommels were identical, a full lions head with an outstretched jaw, a red ruby at the back of it's throat. Along the hilt was a golden design in a circular motion. The handle was not two edges stretching out, but a circle around the hilt decorated in a red metal. He was eternally grateful for his father and for the time being he could show it. Father was now staying at Casterly rock again as Lady Joanna was pregnant,

"Up! Down! Block! Parry….Parry, strike Arraon!" Ser Benedict told the two of them as they trained in the training ring, throwing slashes and cuts at each other. Jaime's nameday sword flashed across from the hold Arraon held it in, a series of flourishes whirling around them and a successive chain of parries clinking across their weapons and Jaime proving to be that much quicker as he was able to knock the blade in Arraon's left hand out of his reach as Jaime spun around and locked his sword in a duelling pose. "Push harder!" Ser Benedict urged. It was Jaime who acted on his advice and caused Arraon to tumble over himself onto his back, barely clutching the blade as Jaime pressed his sword to his brother's throat.

"Do you yield?"

"For now." He smirked as be brushed the blade away with his own as he accepted Jaime's outstretched hand. "I don't see why we should be practising like this. I think it's obvious I'll never be good as you."

"As long as you're better than everyone else, I don't think it matters." They laughed as Jaime slapped a hand on his back. They locked their swords away as Lady Joanna walked up to the ring. Ser Benedict took his leave at that point.

"Jaime, Arraon, the Septon wants to see you." The two boys exchanged a look of confusion.

"Why mother?" Jaime inquired.

"He wants to educate you on the rites of knighthood. Your father wants you to learn them." She explained, as she placed a hand on her lightly swollen belly. The two of them journeyed together to the sept. It existed on the side of the Rock, the only place that light could enter the castle for the windows that let the grace of the gods into the sept. As Arraon and Jaime passed through the door emblazoned with the star of the seven upon it, they walked through the pews of Septon Johan and the various septas that passed throughout the rock. The sept was the most unnatural part of Casterly Rock, the brown rock was barely seen. Most of the room was covered in white slate brought in from elsewhere in the Kingdoms, great pillars covered the great hall but at the uppermost part of the hall was the central piece of any good sept; the figures of the Gods. As they walked up to them, they noticed Septon Johan at the foot of the statue of the father, likely praying upon his knees. The worship of the Gods was an important aspect of Arraon's life, just as he knew it was a necessary imperative for any true southron. They were good and just and kind, they would likely give anything to the devout who requested it. As they completed the walk tote uppermost point beneath the flight of steps leading to the effigies of the seven, the sounds of their boots echoing throughout the gallery. Johan stepped up and turned to face the lordlings.

"Lord Jaime, Lord Hill." He smiled down at them. "For millennia our holy faith has instituted the policy of Knighthood, those who are blessed with the warrior's skills and exercise the other virtues our most holy Gods hold dear. For any young man, the honour of knighthood is not a burden to be taken lightly. For all your lives, short as they may have been blessed, you have honed your skills in the ways of the warrior's sons and your lord father has decided it is high time the rites of this holy blessing were bestowed unto you as well. Now, what do you know about the ceremony of knighthood?"

"What don't we know?" Jaime teased as they explained all they knew. There was little and less that the two of them did not know about the ceremonial requirements of Knighthood. If the right man touched your shoulder with his sword it could only be a while until the best had their names on the tongues of singers. Either of them could list the names of any knight from the past. Greegor Goode, Ryam Redwyne, Roland Crakehall, Aemon the Dragon and Duncan the tall to name but a few. For as long as Arraon could remember, he and his brother had dreamed of the day they wold be knighted and the songs that would be sung of them. Though his ambition had already been set and he knew their song; 'The Western Lord and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.' It had long been another of Arraon's aims to join that venerated order. Jaime was to be the Lord of the Rock, what could he have? Some minor holdfast along the border with the Reach? True, it would be harder for a bastard, but when your father was hand many doors were opened for you.

"Yes, a worthy and honourable deed will earn you a knighthood to be sure but you are aware of the connections with the holy faith?"

"The faith? But, doesn't the mother's book condemn violence to her children?"

"Very good, Lord Hill, yet the Warrior's book allows such actions in the name of our good gods. Such was the foundation for the warrior's sons. Knights are the most noble and venerated warriors, selected for this sacred duty. Now, it is high time you learnt these rites and not an old man's prattling. After you have been knighted, you must be presented to a sept and anointed in the oils of our seven gods. Then, you must stand for a whole night in the sept before the sight of the warrior. Are you aware of the vows you must take?"

Jaime gave Arraon a confused look and he returned the gesture. "Ah, evidently not my lords; no matter." Johan cleared his throat.

"_In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just._

_In the name of the Mother, I charge you to protect the weak and innocent._

_In the name of the Maiden, I charge you to defend all women._

_In the name of the Crone, I charge you to keep true and honourable._

_In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to destroy his foes._

_In the name of the Smith, I charge you to remain strong and dutiful._

_In the name of the Stranger, I charge you to avoid his unknown._

_Now rise, Knight of the Realm and defender of the faith." _He concluded.

"These are the most important words that must remain throughout your lives as knights of the realm. Keep these vows close to your heart always, the love of the good gods there as well. Learn them, for one day you must be prepared to speak them before any agent of the most devout. I believe that is all for today, you are free to leave." He smiled at them as he returned to his prayers. Once the two of them had left the eyes and ears of Johan they continued on their way.

"Well, that was a waste of a morning." Jaime grumbled.

"To be fair, it is something we need if we're gonna be knights someday." Arraon argued.

"What do we need to know about being knights but lances, swords and favours?"

"The Gods might just play a small part in the vows we swear to them." He returned.

"Hm, perhaps if the Kingsguard doesn't work out, you can become the High Septon." He laughed.

"What do you have against the faith?"

"I don't have any problem with the faith."

"The gods?" Arraon smirked, as his brother's died in the process. "Let me guess; "_You shall not share the blood of those wrought from the same line; it is an abomination to mother and maiden alike. These offenders shall be put to death."_ He responded, all too aware of the smug grin plastered over his face. It was Jaime that stopped by a nearby pillar showering his face from view.

"I love her." He whispered.

"Gods, you haven't stopped have you?"

He turned back to face him. "I can't help it, I see her when I close my eyes, I dream about her, I see her when I look in the mirror." _"Being twins will likely have that effect."_ Arraon silently thought to himself.

"Look Jaime, I know I'm not some sort of mind-Maester but this can't be good. Just leave it and you'll forget about it." He assured him.

"But I can't, I just can't." he verified for Arraon, sulking off. This was hardy going to be something that went away quickly, he as well aware. It didn't matter where they were or who they were with; it was apparent his siblings were going to be connected for the longest time. He wouldn't have cared one way or the other but the problem was laid out in the holy book. Relations of this level are a sin unto the Gods and if they were truly good enough to allow him his own life, surely all should give them praise and honour their commands? He knew that both he and all people owed them their very lives and everything else besides. Not only that but he made a promise to Lady Joanna, to avert Jaime from this path. He owed it to her, to father, to House Lannister, to the Gods to make an effort to end this 'union.' He feared for Jaime's soul especially, the Gods punished those who defied them but that was only just. In their kindness the seven gave humankind the foresight to avert themselves from these destructive paths. The Gods are _Good._

"No, no, no, no." Arraon's father simply responded to Creylen's solemn news. He cast a look around the chamber, his family all bearing the same horrified look etched on their faces. None of them could bring themselves to believe what the Maester was reporting to them: Lady Joanna had died in childbirth. Whenever they so much as scraped a knee and tears might have begun to well up in either of their eyes, Father would explain to them that 'Lannisters lack common fragility, be strong where they would break.' At this moment his father was showing that weakness, tears slipping out of his pale unfleckled eyes. Covering them in his hands, he found the eyes of his children and brother focused on him and he raised his head again.

"Bring him to me, bring me my new-born."

"Lord Tywin, I would not advise-"

"Now Creylen." He seethed, his eyes not filled with a golden fleck but a raging fire. The Maester withdrew and returned just as quickly clutching a bundle of cloths, a rather abundant bundle now that Arraon observed it. What could he be hiding? Father stepped out of his seat and moved towards the Maester, clutching onto the cloth reaching out a hand to pull the cover back but fear and despair burst in his eyes. "Seven hells…" he gasped, staring down at the mass unseen from Arraon, Cersei and Jaime. For what seemed like an endless age this dynamic played out until Father glared up at Creylen, whispering in bated breaths. "Are you telling me that my wife lies dead, torn and ripped apart from the inside and all I have to show for it is this misshapen demon?!" Creylen could not manage a response.

"Tywin-" Uncle Kevan began, reaching out a hand to his shoulder, but father flinched away almost throwing the child into his arms.

"I am not to be disturbed." He commanded, storming out of the room. Kevan's lip quavered as he gave an unsure look to his nephews and niece.

"Would you like to see the babe?" he asked, smiling through his golden beard. They did not even have the will to nod. "Uh, here you are." He knelt down to allow them to see and it was plain father was not wrong regarding the baby's state. As Cersei let out a gasp, practically a shriek, at what a misshapen demon he was, Arraon observed him. A stunted thing, one of his sleeping eyes was bigger than the other. His thin hair was pale gold yet containing flecks of deep black. His forehead was brusque and crushed together yet his most obvious feature would be obvious for all his life; he was a dwarf. As the baby opened his eyes, it was even more peculiar. One eye was the Lannister green but the other was pitch black, yet there was still that childish innocence in them.

"That thing killed our mother and will live?" said Cersei.

"I wouldn't bet on it, my lady. With his deformity, he'll have passed away in the crib soon enough." Creylen explained

"I hope it'll be painful." she whispered.

"Cersei, that's a bit-"Jaime began, but was just as quickly cut off with a wave of her hand. She did not respond but simply turned and ran from the room, but no tears. He did not think it possible for his half-sister to shed tears. Uncle Kevan told them they were free for the day, the only thing Jaime would do was practise swordplay. Whenever he fought, it seemed as if he went away somewhere else. Arraon wished he could do that, yet today it was evidently biting away at him. They practised on wooden figures that day, but Jaime struck them with such unbridled fury and rage he caused a splinter in them screaming as he tore it apart. Arraon, meanwhile could not find the energy to lift the blade; there was something that was towering over him about this. It wasn't that he felt sad about Lady Joanna's death, he was not spiteful to the babe as it was with Cersei. He did not feel the need to lash out in anger as with Jaime. He felt the exact opposite; he felt _nothing._

He hated himself for it. What sort of person hears about the closest thing they have to a mother dying and acts as if a wayward servant spilt wine on a new rug? As he wrapped his fingers around the sword again and tried to raise it up, he realised that was exactly the problem. Lady Joanna never had been his mother, whoever she was she had not been there like she had been .He felt sick of himself. What sort of cold, heartless person would react like that? "_A bastard, that's who."_ the voice crept back to him. He didn't want to train anymore.

As he slid his foreign styled blades back into place, he heard a scream. He spun around to see Jaime swing a final strike, knocking the dummy off its balance as he threw his word against a rocky wall and leapt onto the figure punching any remaining life out of it. Arraon ran up to him and pulled his enraged brother from the ground begging his name. Eventually, he managed to get him under control. "Jaime, calm down!"

"How?!" he shouted, finally lowering his arms. "How can we just go on?! She's dead!" The tears were streaming down his face, unashamed.

"Jaime, I don't know how to-"

"No, no you don't. You're not even part of our family, you're just a bastard. Maybe Cersei's right; what place_ do_ you have here? Just get out, even your whore mother didn't love you enough to stay around!" he screamed in his face, placing his hands on his brother's chest and pushing him to the ground before storming off in a frenzy. Arraon simply sat in silence as he lay in the dirt of the deserted training ring. He didn't care that his leg might be sprained, he didn't care that his back was in an ache from the fall, he cared about what Jaime had just told him. All his life, Jaime had been there. When Lady Joanna had come calling, when Cersei was bored, when one needed the others help they had been as brothers should be. Until now that is. Had it all been a lie? He wasn't quite sure how to think. He was torn between screaming to himself and crying. There was only one place he could go now.

"You think they can hear you? You think bowing your head and pleading with them will bring you _anything?!_ They're gods, they have no mercy, and we are but their playthings. THAT is why they're Gods!" Lord Tywin seethed to his daughter, dressed in white cloth and on her knees before the maiden's statue.

"But father-" she pleaded.

"Go. Don't let me catch you here again." She hurried away from the sept through the main door as Arraon observed the scene from the balconies on high unseen from his father and sister. Once the gate closed behind the distressed Cersei and left the sept empty and silent. Father turned around and walked up to the statue of the father. "Why? Have I offended your precious followers in some way? Is this retribution? Payment for my sins?" he spoke aloud, mostly to himself was what Arraon assumed. "I would assume this is to be some lesson in humility; I have watched my House return to glory. In return, you take my wife and force me to watch as that beast will doubtless wobble about wearing the golden lion of my father, and his father before him. No Septon who preaches your benevolence can be believed, you are less than the shadows of what you set yourselves up to be." He turned his head to leave but stopped for one last remark. "Burn in your own hells." He strolled out of the rock-enclosed sept. Arraon was left alone in the sanctuary of, illuminated by the rising stars. He suddenly felt a need to take a walk to the Gatehouse.

As he walked through the endless corridors of the Rock, father's words struck a chord with him. He had come to the sept to pray, not for the Lady Joanna's life as doubtless Cersei was. It was for healing, he intended to pray for their healing. To recover and come to terms with her death was shat he wanted. Perhaps Jaime's words might have faded with the day, but it was father's words that concerned him. How could it be that it conflicted with Johan's? The old Septon's words had gave him an encouraging feeing; that the Mother's kind eyes were watching, the crone gave him the wisdom he needed and the warrior gave him his skill in the training arena. Even the Stranger, dark and unknown as he was, was comforting as all devout followers knew he was the guide through the eternal darkness. Contrasted with father's words, it did not appear as clearly now. "_I would assume this is to be some lesson in humility,_" gave the impression the Gods could do this as they pleased. Why would they though, it made no sense. They were supposed to be good and just and kind; not indifferent and distant. Were they good? They took Lady Joanna, a kind and undeniably beautiful woman. Taken in childbirth and her son was cursed with deformity. That would point to them being cruel. Were they kind; would they deprive two children, riddled in sin, of their own mother and the bravest man in the Kingdoms of his wife? That seemed to show they were deceitful, betraying the Maiden's promise. Were they just? What was just in the death of a woman who would accept him as one of her own; nothing. As he crossed the empty courtyard, it finally occurred to him that the Gods were a lie, told from birth. They were the anthesis of what the Holy Books pointed them to being. "Hey, watch where you're going!" a gruff, rough voice called out to him as he looked up and saw a man he was about to walk into.

"Oh, my apologies." He smiled, looking up at the man. Form the way he was dressed it was certain that he was a Northman. A wolf skin cloak, leather padded boots and gloves and a silver clasp around the cloak bearing the seal of a direwolf. His wore rugged clothes and apparently cared little for how he was dressed. That was typical of the north uncaring for the 'comforts' of the south, instead presuming to stand strong among the snow worshipping trees. This was a younger man, past his twentieth nameday, yet not past his five-and-twentieth. A stout man with broad shoulders, well-trimmed hair and the starts of whiskers sprouting out.

"Who are you boy?" the northerner asked.

"Arraon Hill." He responded

"Ah, the hand's ba, - uh 'natural' son. Yes, where is your father?"

"He won't talk to you."

"Why is that?"

"You haven't heard?"

"Apparently not." The Northman responded, gritting his teeth.

"Lady Joanna recently died in childbirth." He confessed.

"Ah, I understand."

"I can pass on your message to Ser benedict if you want."

"Just tell him Ser Cassel's making a duty call." He announced, puffing up his upper lip.

"Ser? Are you a knight?" he asked excitedly.

"A cavalryman, young one."

"Cavalryman? But you said you were a ser."

"Aye, in the north we have the same title as your prancing knights."

"But the Septon" he hesitated at the very word, "says the only way to become a knight is to be anointed in the name of the Gods."

"The Southron Gods, cavalrymen serve the old gods of earth, river and tree."

"The old gods? You mean the white trees, like in the stone garden?"

"Tree worshippers!" he laughed. "No, lion lord. It is not the trees we worship in the north; it is the gods. The gods of the children, the gods of the first men, the gods of river, root and stone. The weirwood trees are simple faces they use to watch us. The old gods are watching, ancient and eternal. We don't have any of your Septons, no holy books, no sacred rites. Only three tenants and one lesson. Now, if you'll excuse me." He moved to leave but Arraon called after him.

"Can you tell me about them, the gods?"

He sighed but turned back to face him. "I suppose. If you want to worship the old gods there is only one thing you need do; believe. Beyond that, there is little you need do. Simply remember; "The old gods are watching the kinslayer, for no man is so accursed as them. The old gods are watching the slavers, for all men are equal in their gaze. The old gods are watching guests who have taken right, for defiance of that contract is the greatest offence. The old gods are watching, so we must listen." Do you understand?"

"I think so, then there's nothing else?"

"Our gods may have a simplistic faith but it is an honourable one. Farewell, little lordling." The cavalryman with the direwolf brooch disappeared from view, Arraon never saw him again but he now knew what it was he had to do. He quickly ran back to the training ring and grabbed one of his nameday swords and headed towards the place he had spoken of.

The Stone Garden was so named because it was one of the few godswoods in the kingdoms that was artificially made for the Weirwood tree at its centre, surrounded by a stone circle as if it was protecting it. Stone paths, stone walls, stone doorframes. Yet what attracted the eye of all was the tree. White as snow with leaves red as the colour of his father's house, a face was etched upon it. Ancient and unmoving, the weeping eyes looked as if they were watching Arraon as he moved closer clutching his steel. As he passed beneath the first branches of the tree, he drew the sword and knelt before the tree as he began to pray to these northern gods as he would have to the gods of his forefathers.

"_Gods of the north,"_ he said to himself, extending his sword before him. "_I'm not sure if you accept prayers like the seven, but I'll do my best. For years the agents of these gods have told me of their mercy and justice. I have never known a mother, but the closest thing I have known is the Lady Joanna. I do not come to you to ask for her life; I come to ask for my brother's. I beseech of you, let Tyrion live. Let him grow to be a boy she could be proud of, let him live to prove he deserves it. Let him live to be a Lannister. If he dies, I will not care but if you hear my prayer I pledge my worship to you. I will forsake these false seven and kneel at these trees for prayer and hold you above all. This is my promise, the fulfilment of it is left to you."_ He concluded his prayer as he lifted his head and a shiver crept up his spine and a gust of wind entered the Godswood. The red leaves of the withered sapling blew in the wind, towards the right pointing Arraon in that direction. "_Have the Old Gods answered my prayer?"_ he pondered as he cast a look in that direction. If he was correct, that direction would be to the North. If it was the Gods, he could only assume they had some greater purpose there? But what, what was north of their rock that could possibly be of significance to them? Castamere? The Crag? Faircastle? No, that made no sense. It wouldn't be within the Westerlands that much he could guess.

Did they have some purpose on the Iron islands, no, no. They worshiped neither the old nor the new. The Twins? Moat Cailin? Flint's Finger? Winterfell?! No. Beyond even the Starks and suddenly it became clear. He knew what he had to do as he remembered the words that he had read so long ago, clear as day now; "_Upon the wall, even a bastard can rise high."_


	3. Chapter 3- Jaime I

**Jaime**

As he slammed the door to his chambers behind him he wasted no time in slumping in front of it, blocking it's entry as he clasped his face within his hands, sobbing to himself. He didn't know what had come over him, he just felt so…so angry. At father, at Creylen…at Arraon. _"Why?" _he wept to himself, his own words echoing in his ears. _"You're not even part of our family, you're just a bastard!"_ Why would he say that, of course Arraon was part of their family! Whether he was a Hill or a Lannister, he was still his brother. It wouldn't be that hard for him to become forgiven, but it wouldn't be easy. He even called his mother a whore. Whatever one of those was, he quietly laughed at his own ignorance.

At that moment a knock came at the door. "Go away!" he shouted. He didn't know who it was and quite frankly he didn't care. There was no one he wanted to see at this time. No one except mother.

"It's me." She responded. No one except mother AND his other half. Jaime leapt up and unbolted the door and there she stood.

"Cersei…" he exhaling, smiling as she stood there. Eyes bloodshot and hair long and flowing. Standing there in her white dress, various seven pointed stars depicted all across it. Across her smooth arms and her long, silky legs. She was always so beautiful. She ran into his arms as he closed the door behind them. She wasted no time and began crying into his shoulder as he placed his hand behind her head and ran his fingers through her soft, golden hair.

"Jaime, I don't know what to do. She's…she's…" she began, in between sobs. Even as she was crying, she sounded peaceful. But, it was true what she was saying mother was. Gone. There was no other word for it, she was there as she was escorted to Creylen's study giving an encouraging look to them. "_Do not worry my darlings, everything will be fine." _She had assured them. Eventually, the screams had died down and Creylen had emerged from his study trembling and practically whispering to their father.

"I know…I know." He whispered to her, deathly silent.

"Jaime, what's wrong? You don't look like you've been crying." She stated, as if there were only one way to mourn. "But that doesn't matter now. That monster that killed our mother is still alive. Can you believe father is going to let it live? He should leave him in a basket and let the sea wash him away." She cooed, stroking his cheek. "There's something else bothering you. Tell me." She asked, but she said it like a command.

"I was training with Arraon in the ring and I was so angry. He tried to help but I lashed out and told him he had no right to be here. I called his mother a whore." He confessed lightly, there was nothing that was kept a secret between them. Outside he could hear the clinking of armour and the storming of boots.

"And? Is there a problem?"

"Cersei, I was so horrible to him." He said as he cast a look downwards but she pulled his chin to meet her eyes as she got that look in them. He was not excited about what she was about to say.

"And? He's a Hill, baseborn. He doesn't matter; all that matters is you, and me." She smiled, as she moved to lock her fingers in his and inaudible shouts now accompanied the outside noises but Jaime left the lock just as quickly, to her wild confusion.

"I know you haven't always got on but he's our _brother._" He argued.

"Our half-brother" she corrected, sweet as she could be. "If he fell off the white cliffs, it wouldn't matter to us."

"It would matter to me." He confirmed, taking a stand both to and way from her. At that moment something changed within her, his other half vanished and the soft smile that adorned her lips disappeared and an enraged scowl had taken its place as her voice twisted to one filled with bitterness.

"So, the bastard means more to you than me? I see where this is going. How far will you take this; will you one day choose that thing over me?" she said, fuming and seething. Yet she could never be anything but undyingly beautiful, even when her lioness' eyes were filled with anger.

"Cersei-"he began outreaching his hand to cares her soft cheek, but she slapped his gloved hand away and stormed out of the room. From what Jaime could tell, tears were streaming down that very same cheek. "Cersei!" he once again called out to her as she disappeared down the boundless halls of the rock as he silently cursed to himself, but at that same moment he overheard a conversation. Not wanting to be found, he pressed himself to the wall's edge and listened to the pair from around the corner.

"Has Gastan found him yet?"

"You think that fat cunt could find anything outside of the mess hall. Nah, it's as if he's just disappeared." He spoke as if he was far off in his own mind, somewhere else. Like he was away inside, something Jaime had begun to do when father began one of his unending lectures about 'legacy' or 'family.'

"Has Lord Tywin been told?"

"Lord Tywin? If he finds out he's gone, he'll have to get a new guard!"

"Why?" the former responded, curious and obviously naïve. Jaime heard the sound of a smack from them.

"Because our heads will be a bit preoccupied above the gates of Lannisport, you cunt!"

"Ah." He confessed. "So where has he gone?"

"Ser Ben questioned the stable boy that gave him the pony. He's headed north." This was even more confusing, whoever they were talking about must be important enough to warrant father's attention.

"North? Why's the bastard headed north?" Jaime suddenly understood what they were talking about; Arraon. Though it made no sense, why would Arraon have gone north? As he pressed his back to the rocky surface, aiming to remain unseen from the chittering guardsmen his heart sank in his chest as he understood the reason. _He_ was the reason this was happening, he had told Arraon he had no place here. He needed to tell Arraon that he didn't mean what he had said, he had to apologise but this was going to be a problem. If he was racing north, he had to get father to send as many riders after him as possible!

He silently withdrew from the corridor and headed towards father's chambers. Upon nearing the entrance to the chamber, Father stormed out; his councillors and brothers accompanying him. He was dressed in his crimson armour, highlighted with golden lion heads upon the shoulders; a red cape draped over his shoulders and a golden sword by his side flapping as he stormed out of the double doors an enraged and aching look in his eyes. It was all Jaime could see before he swished around the corner away from view awaiting his father's words.

"I don't care how many men it costs, send out every man and horse! Empty the rock if you have to but find him!" he shouted menacingly at the men with lion crested helms as they shuffled around, obeying his orders.

"Tywin, it's been hours. He could be anywhere from here to Crakehall by now. Perhaps it would be better-"Uncle Kevan began.

"My son is missing!" he roared, proud and brave as the lion on their banners. "Find him; secure Jaime and Cersei as well. Send every horse with a rider on every road from Crag to Silverhill until you find him. Go." He commanded, standing on the spot. This wouldn't work, they didn't know he was going north, but if he told father he would know what he had said to Arraon and a Lannister did not behave in such a way. There was only one conclusion; Jaime would have to take a horse and find Arraon himself.

He ran through the familiar halls of the rock and came to the stables eventually. He looked around and noticed all the stable hands were gone. It hardly mattered; they weren't that useful anyway. He looked around for a mount that was the right size for him to saddle but the Lannister warhorses were far too large and towered over him but he would have to hurry before the Guard would stream through here in their manhunt for Arraon. Eventually, he found a suitable pony that had been saddled already and took it up spurring its sides out of the gates of Casterly Rock. He heard a guard shout after him but he didn't care. He spurred the animal on further North. At least he hoped that it was north. He suddenly came to this conclusion as he halted along the road. He looked back and saw the looming figure of Casterly Rock and the sounds of Lannisport in the distance as he laughed to himself.

He looked around to try and find some markers regarding his location, though as he looked up a mountain on the edge of the path he dismounted and eyed something peculiar on the side of the path. As he loomed over it, he reached out to scoop up the glinting object and observed it. A golden coin depicting the Lion of Lannister upon one side, a crown upon it. Evidently an older coin, on the other was the exact mirror image. The first had the inscription pointing it to Loreon the Lion and Larron, the second of his name. He smirked to himself as he recognised it, Arraon carried them around. To tell the truth, he didn't know why Arraon kept this multitude of useless two sided coins around, but if it cold pint Jaime in the direction of his brother it mattered little and less. He saddled the steed and spurred down the road.

On the way, he noticed several travellers who eyes them suspiciously, but he was a Lannister and if they dared to try anything he would cut them to shreds. He smiled to himself as he slowed the equine down to move his hand to his side to feel that familiar feeling of- an empty scabbard. He halted once again came to the realization that in a rush to get a horse, he had left his sword in his chambers. If he wasn't out in the middle of the road with no protection he would have laughed to himself about it. He was a damn fool, Cersei wouldn't have gone out without those bare essentials; though she wasn't stupid enough to try something like this in a million years. Even if she was born male. And he was sure Arraon had both of his by his side.

If he wanted to find Arraon, he would need to think like him. He racked his brain and tried to see what Arraon would have done in this situation. "_The Greatest generals are the overseers of the battles they have commanded,"_ he recalled Arraon saying to Uncle Tygett having memorised the lines from that book he gave him. If he wanted to find Arraon he would have to find a place to see him. He cast a glance around him to see the stony giants of the Kingdom of the Rock, eternal guardians that had been the guardians of the Westermen for millennia. Even the Golden Tooth itself was built into a natural mountain pass to protect Casterly Rock from the Ironborn kings of old. He spied a tall cliff face nearby and concluded he could get a high point and find Arraon from there. Then they could go home.

It was hardy the most difficult one to scale, when you lived in Casterly Rock you got a lot of practise in this art. A few minutes had passed before he was looking over the lands surrounding him. Hills and boundless valleys of the west stretched out before Jaime as he looked out over it all. The richest lands in the Kingdoms would one day be his. A pang of guilt came over him as he realised when he was born. He looked over and noticed a figure moving up the road. IT was clear it was Arraon; it had to be! He vaulted down the cliffs and saddled his pony; spurring it down the road towards his brother. He had to find him, he had to be apologise. "_You need to be forgiven."_ Whispered the voice he calmly shrugged off.

As he neared the figure he called out after it, he called his brother's name and it turned around; the twin swords around his side glinting as the figure sprinted off into a nearby pass. Jaime dismounted and followed in hot pursuit calling after him, through the pass and up the Cliffside shouting after him as he eluded him through the mountain pass. He couldn't bring himself to understand why he was running like this. If they hurried, they might be able to return to Casterly Rock quickly and father wouldn't punish them. As strictly. He had to catch up to him before they got too far up these mountains. For some reason, people didn't travel this far up the mountains very often but Jaime couldn't recollect the reason at this moment; all that mattered was bringing Arraon back. He had lost his mother, he would not lose his brother on the same day!

Eventually, they came to the end of the path at the top of the hill, a circular area made of melancholy grey rock, guarded by jagged effigies and to the right the entrance to a darkened cave. There was nowhere for him to run now. "Arraon, stop! Let me talk to you!" he pleaded with him. As he realised there was nowhere to go, he turned to face his younger sibling.

"Godsdamnit Jaime! What are you doing here?!" he screamed at him.

"Bringing you back home. Now come on, we have to-" he began, reaching out to pull him back but he dodged the hand and stepped back.

"No."

"Arraon, I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't mean what I said. I didn't mean it!" he pleaded, hoping he would see sense.

"You idiot." He sighed. "Jaime, do you remember what happened the last time we played 'And who are you?"

"Yes, I remember." He confessed, the memory of the incident all too fresh. The game consisted of pretending to be some great figure from the past. Aegon the Dragon, Lann the Clever, Bran the builder, anyone. Though Arraon had made the mistake of declaring "I'm the Lord of the Rock!" Jaime reminded him, rather snobbish, that a Hill would never rule the Rock.

"If I could forgive you for that, I would be willing to forgive you for anything. It may have hurt but this is about more than that."

"Pardon me, but what could be more important than this?"

"The will of the Gods!" he bellowed. "The Seven let your mother die and will most like let our brother perish shortly after. I asked the Old gods of the stone garden to stop it and I believe they want me to go north to the watch. Even a bastard can rise high on the wall."

Jaime could do naught but laugh at his proposition, the idea could not have been more ridiculous if the others came back as a mummer's troupe. The expression on his brother's face mirrored fathers, there was not a hint of irony or disdain upon it. "The Gods? Do you think they care what you'll do? Okay, I'll grant you that the northern gods _somehow_ told you this, what makes you think they'll keep their oath? And all that way north as well? You're acting insane. Just come back home and-"

"I can't!" Jaime knew this wasn't going to be easy, if he was going to convince his brother to return with him he would have to be more calculated, concise, and logical. He hated being that, it was why the Gods made Cersei. Though, If Arraon could convert that fast he wondered which Gods he referred to.

"Ok just tell me why?"

"I bargained our brothers' life! If I go, he will live. That is the deal." Arraon explained. It took all of Jaime's energy to try and reason with his brother's growing insanity.

"Do you know, what exactly did you promise?"

"_I beseech of you, let Tyrion live. Let him grow to be a boy his mother could be proud of, let him live to prove he deserves it. Let him live to be a Lannister. If he dies, I will not care but if you hear my prayer I pledge my worship to you. I will forsake these false seven and kneel at these trees of weirwood for prayer and hold you above all_. That is what I promised them, Jaime."

"Wait, what part of that indicates you have to go to the wall?"

"The leaves blew north, that is how the gods answered me." After he realised how ridiculous that sounded, they shared a laugh at that.

"Arraon, if he dies, he dies. They have no say in it. It doesn't matter. Don't go to the wall, come home."

"Jaime I have to do this. You cannot stop me."

"I will not." He stood in his path as they stood eye to eye before the deep, dark cave. He took a step to the left to walk around Jaime but he stood in his way. Arraon gave him a warning glance but he stood as strong as Casterly Rock. Arraon responded by drawing one of his swords.

"Get out of my way." But, he would not move. Arraon gave him a few more warnings but Jaime refused to move. It did not matter how long he would have to stand here, he would not stand aside. "So be it." He stated as he raised the sword above his head…and lowered it once again. "Damnit, how am I ever supposed to do this?"

"Don't." he began, but Jaime heard a strange sound. A low, growling sound; an echo rumbling behind it. "Please tell me that's your stomach rumbling."

"I had lemon cakes before I left." He confessed. At the same time, the two of them turned their heads to face the cave and out of the cave prowled two deep blue eyes, sharp claws and sharper fangs accompanying them s Jaime remembered why people didn't come this far up the mountains this often. As the growling became more clear and came closer to them as the paw stepped out in front of them, the golden lioness it belonged to soon revealed after it. She looked at them as if they were nothing and looked ready to pounce.

Growing up in Casterly Rock, they were no strangers to the lions that were kept in cages within its bowels but this feline was another matter altogether. Twice as big, no thrice as big, as any they had ever seen. In that moment, the choice was made to fight rather than flight. Not that they had any choice as they felt fixed to the ground.

The Lioness' sapphire eyes glanced to look at them and it chose to pursue Jaime as her prey. She hunched over and looked to him, the look of death in her eyes. Jaime wanted to move away but he could not find the will to move. He could see his own body lying dead and interned beside mother. Though it never came as she yelped and roared in a scream of pain as she turned around to reveal her tail had been cut off, beside a dropped sword. Glancing up, he saw Arraon trying his best to jump around the beast. He wasted no time in picking up the dropped sword and plunging it into her rear as she threw her claws back, knocking Jaime to the ground but he would not stay this way for long.

He threw the sword to the side and rolled out of the way, picking the weapon up once again and leaping to join his brother. The lioness once cold eyes had now turned to fire as she bled from all sides and prepared for one final pounce upon the intruders in her lair. Jaime looked to Arraon as they agreed on the right course of action. "The Banefort boy, go for the legs." They said together as they leapt forward to face their enemy, their swords in hand. This would be a complicated move; they would have to be quick and precise for this to work. As her claws leapt out, Jaime spun around, dodging her claws and raising the sword to slice her paw off. Upon the opposite side Arraon had the same reaction and she fell to the ground; yelping and screaming in pain. They moved quickly to end her suffering and plunged their swords into her sides, ending her life at that moment.

The two of them collapsed on their sides and Jaime moved to hand the sword back. "Promise me you'll never run away again."

He did not answer, which gave Jaime the impression that he meant to try this again in the future and soon too. Considering their deceased foe, Jaime turned his attention back to the gargantuan creature as Arraon cleaned the lioness' blood from the swords.

"What is it?"

"Have you seen your own sigil lately?"

"I know it's a lion but look at it, it's huge!"

"I'd guess it's a pendric lion, they don't oft come out of their hills. No wonder many don't come up these mountains. Though they are rare this close to the Rock, one this size hasn't been seen since King Norwin had his collection." Arraon explained, observing the bloodied corpse.

"If they're that dangerous, why'd you lead us up here?" Jaime asked his brother.

"You were chasing me. What were you expecting?" he stated, as if it were a reasonable reaction.

"For you to slow down and come home so we wouldn't have to kill a mountain lion." He responded.

"True enough." Arraon conceded. "Why do you think she attacked us?" Jaime turned to answer but another sound attracted his attention. He looked to Arraon who looked as bewildered as he did, and once again their eyes were drawn to the dark cave. The sound was a high pitched whining that they felt the need to investigate. As they took a step into the lioness' domain, a look of horror was inscribed on their faces as they discovered what it was the Lioness was defending, and why she was so ferocious. A mother tended to be defensive of her children.

Concealed in the corner of the lair was a litter of lion cubs. Two were the perfect golden cubs, a little lion and lioness. No more than a week old, yet fit and healthy. Gold of hair and gold of eye. To the side was another lion of the same colour, yet it was a stunted little thing. His forehead was brusque and crushed together. One eye was amber and another was pitch black, there was more strength in his front than his back. Its tail was short and its mane was almost non-existent. Jaime found himself wondering if the cubs' father had ever smiled to them either. "Look, Jaime. She had a cub!" he heard Arraon announce from another side of the cavern to his bewilderment.

"A cub? She has….ah, four." He agreed as Arraon moved up to him carrying one of his own. This one was radically different. Its coat was not gold but white as snow. From the look of him, he was strong and would grow up good and strong though he was smaller than the golden twins but already Arraon seemed attached to the creature. As he moved his fingers through the cubs fur, Jaime asked him what he was doing.

"Caring for it."

"Well, don't get overly attached, Father will probably have them killed. Besides it's an albino, it'll die sooner than the others anyway." He explained, to Arraon's horror.

"No!"

"Why, what is the problem?"

"This is why the Gods called me north. To find him."

"And you know this…how exactly?"

"Look here." Arraon gave his brother a look at the cub but no matter how many times he looked it over, he couldn't find what it was his brother was pointing him to.

"Uhh, what exactly am I looking at?"

"His eyes!" he urged, once again Jaime looked at the creature. It's eyes were amber, a deep orange, but when Jaime looked at it again, in a certain light, they appeared red.

"They're…orange?"

"Red! Red of eye, white of fur. White and red; remind you of anything familiar?" he asked Jaime as he fondled the animal's white fur. Red and white, what did that have to do with the Seven calling him north? "_No,"_ Jaime reminded himself. "_The Old gods of the Weirwood trees."_

"The Weirwoods?"

"Now you're getting it. The Gods called me north to demonstrate my faith, you played an undeniable part."

"_Ah, now I understand."_ Jaime thought to himself, "_You've taken leave of your senses and begun to descend into madness. This is sadly starting to make sense."_

"We were meant to find these animals. White of fur and white of bark. Red of eye and red of leaves. Now-"he had been saying but outside the cavern they heard the sound of horses echo up the mountain. They stepped outside to see the thundering charge of the lion banners storm up the hill, at the head of this horde rode Uncle Gerion. He looked at his nephews with a gladdened look but once he noticed the scene that had been laid out before him and the corpse of the lioness, the look in his eyes turned into a more bemused look.

"Well, we've been busy here haven't we?" he tittered as he dismounted, walking up to the two and standing over her body. "A pendric lioness? They don't often come out of their hiding places but now it appears grieving boys can take them down. We'll take the skin back as a trophy. Whether it'll appease your lord father is another matter." He smiled as he returned to mount his horse. Jaime moved to join him rather eagerly but Arraon would not relent about the damn cub.

"Wait, uncle!" he pleaded as Gerion turned around to greet him. Arraon bid him follow into the cave as he gasped at them. Arraon explained that they were meant to find these animals. Uncle Gerion never was one to start arguments. He scooped up the other three animals and placing the male twin into Jaime's arms.

"I think this one is yours." He smiled at Jaime, as he commanded that the lioness be taken back to the Rock. They had faced all the challenges of this day but now would come their hardest challenge yet. Facing Lord Tywin Lannister.


	4. Chapter 4- Tywin I

Chapter Four- Tywin

Even as a boy, Tywin had observed these offices and craved their ownership from his late father, to him this room at the edge of Casterly Rock, overlooking the great city and the fleet it housed was the solidified symbol of power in this land. Now he had that power; as he was Warden of the West and the Hand of the King, Tywin of the Noble House of Lannister was the most powerful man in the kingdoms. No family could look down on them, not even the Targaryens. As he looked over the port city that seemed quieter tonight, he realised that power seemed useless if you could not save those you loved. For several fleeting moments that night, he had considered giving it all up if his wife could be restored to him and that monster removed from his sight.

Though he did not ponder on such things for long. She was dead, the thing that killed her was still alive and Arraon had ran away. The Gods only knew why he had undertaken such a ludicrous intention, but he would find his son; no matter how long it took. They would not take more than one thing he loved this day. Damn that boy, he wasn't thinking about his actions; brash, wild. Even fierce at times. It was inevitable the boy was going to take something from his mother. Even now, he could still see her on the day before she passed. She had been pretty, lovely even. Never as beautiful as Joanna, but comely all the same. The words of her sing song voice still echoed through his head even now. _"Promise me Ty," _she had said, taking his hand in hers "_Promise me you will take him in, raise him among your own children. For any affection you may have borne me; swear it to me, on your honour as a Lannister."_

Damn her. It had been nearly a decade now but if there was any debt he remained any more unwilling to break it was this one. He made good on his promise to Kevan and was prepared to empty the Rock of guards, bar a scarce minimum and each of them had orders not to return unless his son was safe. Fools. He had a mind to take all of their heads, but that would have been more trouble than it was worth. He was prepared to go out there himself as was right, Arraon was his son, his own lifeblood, his responsivity. Yet now he had received word that Jaime had left as well. He felt as if he wanted to collapse into himself and never wake that was until the first patrol returned. Lord Tywin observed them from the window of his office and noticed their banners. The family sigil of the golden lion and another less familiar. A lion standing upright, eyes closed and mouth open that looked as if it was laughing. "_So Gerion is the first to return."_

It was a few minutes before his youngest brother came to his door, even the grief of the day had gotten to his brother. He just didn't look the same without that insufferable grin plastered from ear to ear. "My lord." He began.

"Brother, have you found them?"

"Among other things." Was the reply, causing Tywin to raise his eyebrow. "You'd best come and see this." He motioned for his elder to follow him out of the chamber but there was little in Tywin's political or parental career that could have prepared him for what he was about to see; the corpse of a bloodied yet full grown pendric lioness. Though he knew he showed no signs of shock, it was something that struck him deeply. Especially since he knew it was not Gerion that had taken down this monster. For the first time in his life, he found himself confused on how to feel about the situation. "There's also the matter of the cubs…" Gerion announced, motioning to a pile of three golden cubs and an albino on the opposite side, away from the mother's unseeing view.

"Feed the bodies to the hunting hounds." He commanded.

"Arraon won't be happy with that, big brother."

"Why?"

"He claims he was 'meant' to find them." Gerion explained to Tywin's immense displeasure.

"Leave the beast for now. I will deal with Arraon." He commanded as he returned to his study. Eventually, Arraon was sent through the door shaking and uncomfortable with the experience he was going through. The most apparent factor of his son's feelings was the undeniable reality that Arraon would not meet his gaze. He stood before the edge of the desk, Arraon barely standing before him. "So, we've been busy tonight haven't we? Defying my will, running away like a stray cat without my leave and becoming a further embarrassment to the family." He said, calmly and without any malice. Yet even he was aware of the ice that had been slipping into his voice.

"None of that would matter much to me as long as no blood was spilt, yet it was the opposite that happened, wasn't it? A pendric lioness is not a creature that dwells out of their lairs often the only reasonable solution is that _you_ journeyed into those mountains for some reason or another. Followed by your brother no doubt, explain to me why." He demanded of his son but Arraon would not bend, not for any hateful purpose, but because he feared what he might inflict upon him. Perhaps he was right. Though the endless silence seemed to grate on Tywin's nerve as he demanded an answer from his son again and again but with very mute and vague answers ultimately leaving the Lord of the Rock with no choice.

He slowly paced from the desk to the shivering mass of his son and looked down upon him, followed by standing tall as a statue over his natural son. "Arraon." He stated, with a chill and authority he was all too aware of. "Look at me." He commanded, and as Arraon looked up he seemed to get much more confident, with his arms locked down by his side. As Tywin looked down at him, he saw a glint of his own reflection in his chestnut eyes. "Now, tell me why you did what you did tonight." The next space of time was occupied by Arraon recounting the situations he had found himself in that night. From the observations in the Sept, to the visit of the Northman, to the visit in the Godswood, to the meeting with Jaime on the road, to the mountain. The rest was recent history. "You misunderstand me," Tywin began once again, "you have not explained why."

"Father?" the boy asked him, so he repeated the question.

"When I was in the Stone garden," he began "I felt as if the Gods were watching me. When I asked for, erhm, for our family to be healed the Gods blew the leaves north. I knew then that they wanted me to go there."

"North?" Lord Tywin repeated sharply. "What possible purpose could be for you in that frozen wasteland?"

"I…I had thought that my place might have been on the Wall…"

"The Wall," he scoffed, as he turned his back to face the desk "An obsolete heap for every kind of delinquent the realm has to offer. You could never have any place there. You are my son." He stated. "_The Night's Watch? Surely he cannot be serious about such things. His place is here, at the rock, at the side of his house. If he's on some self-ordained piety mission for the northern gods, I might have to double the guards around him."_

"Is that all?" he murmured, silent as a shade yet nothing escaped his notice.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, with his back still turned to the boy.

"If it were Jaime or Cersei, you would remind them that they are Lannisters. I'm just a Hill."

"You are my son." He reminded the boy.

"Is that all I am to be?" he growled, which caused Tywin to face his castaway eyes, "The bastard, unable to take your name and doomed to be forgotten. Who will even-"he began but Tywin had had enough of this foolishness. He hurdled forward on one knee to meet his son's eyes and rest his hands upon his shoulders and focused his gaze into his, pale green unto deep hazel.

"You are my son." He repeated "You are my son. Trueborn or otherwise; you are my son, you are a Lion of the Rock, you are my blood. You will remain at the rock until I command it to be otherwise. Do you understand?" he declared, bold as he was able in the hope he would take note of it.

"Yes father. I will remain here." he replied sheepishly

"Good." He said as he rose to his feet.

"I now understand that the cubs were the reason I was called north." He said with an air of sovereignty.

"_The cubs?"_ Tywin pondered to himself before the realization came to him. "_Ah, the pendric's litter. I can't wait to hear this explanation."_ He mused to himself as he turned to face him again. "At least they'll make good skins" he began but a look of fear emerged from Arraon's eyes. "Well, you can hardy keep them."

"No!" he cried in dismay, earning his father's rightful ire.

"No? I wasn't aware a question was asked. The cubs will die Arraon; at the tip of a sword or on their own in due time."

He paused to consider his next words more carefully. "Father, look at them. Three male, one female. Golden lions, found in a field of blood; the sigil of your House. A set of twins, an albino and a deformity. We were meant to have them."

"And how would you intend to feed them? Wet a cloth from the milk of the cage lions?" he asked, earning a weak nod from his son and a heavy sigh from himself. "That may be true if they were from the lowlands or even cave lions but these monsters are from the pendric hills." As he weighed the options before him, Lord Tywin could not deny the opportunity that had been laid before him. True, these monsters could grow to tear his children apart; Jaime and Arraon barely escaped that lioness alive though would their enemies? If these beasts could be trained the right way, if they were 'meant' to have them as the boy claims what would be a more frightening prospect to their enemies: a golden lion, or three of them?

"They are not common hounds, they are not dogs to throw treats beneath the high table. I will not have you wasting Meric's time with this, if the three of you wish them you must train them. _You_ must train them, and may your gods help you if you neglect them, brutalize them or mistrain them. These are not the type of hounds Meric raised for hunting, to be slinked off at a kick. These beasts will rip of a man's leg as easily as a wolf will kill cattle. Now, are you sure you want to keep them, they would fetch a high price across the sea?" he said to his son as a fleck of gold appeared in the boy's eye.

"Yes, father, yes!" Arraon agreed.

"The cubs may die anyway; despite all your efforts."

"They won't father, I won't let their gift die."

"Very well, keep them then. Just ensure they are kept out of the way of the staff, which shouldn't be difficult."

"Father?"

"You still disobeyed me. Every day at daybreak you will report to Ser Benedict and do whatever he commands of you for three months. Outside of maester's lessons, drills and collecting supplies for 'training,' you are to remain confined within your chambers. Do you understand?" He nodded, more joyful than he had been before. "Good. The same will be true for your brother."

"But father, Jaime only followed me."

"Then he can follow you in your punishments. If there is nothing else, you will return to your chambers. Ensure nothing like this happens in the future." He warned.

"I won't father, I promise."

"I shall hold you to that. Now go." The boy obeyed without question and Tywin allowed a chuckle to escape his lips. These beast would serve his house well, even the deformed…

It was then he remembered the reasons for the events that had transpired that night. "_Joanna…"_ he thought to himself as he remembered her beautiful golden hair and for the first time, in the longest time ever, he shed a tear for her.


	5. Chapter 5- The Sun and the Lion

**Chapter Five**

Cersei

"Alright girl, reach for it. Go on." She ribbed as she waved the morsel in front of the beast as cunning eyes looked up at her. Her new pet cocked her head to the side and let out a purr of pure pleasure as Cersei had to concede with a sigh as she tossed the meat into her little ones toothless mouth. "Ah, what am I to do with you, my little jewel?" she chuckled as she rubbed her fingers through the cub's growing hair as it squirmed around on the floor of their chamber as she sat on her knees. She picked the little cub up and threw herself back onto her rug cut of red and gold as she moved the cub to sit on her top and caress her fingers across the little ones golden head. It moved up Cersei's body with small claws growing from its paws as she began to tear through her emerald cut gown and attached her mouth to her mistress' nose causing her to erupt in cackling laughter as Cersei leapt up to catch her in her arms, a moss of golden hair falling around her. "Alright Jewel, it's feeding time."

Though the aged beasts in the menagerie beneath the Rock may have amused Cersei and her brothers on a few afternoons, along with providing one of the few times she would be willing to admit that the bastard could have matched her. Their wellbeing hadn't concerned her, everything and everyone became expendable by the end. Though when she held the lion cub in her arms she felt as if she could never give it up. She could still recall the night that Jaime had brought it to her; a bundle of cloths with high pitched whelps emerging from it. When he revealed it to her, a reflection of themselves; a set of beautiful golden twins. Pendric lions, a rare sight to be seen out of their caves. She had so clearly imagined how Jaime had undergone it. With her favour on his arm as he thundered up the mountain pass, her lover slayed one of those hellish demons in single combat and he rescued the cubs to carry one to his love. She had been ready to lock lips with her other half then and there but he had begun to explain the events that had lead up to the claiming of them.

Her smile died when she realised that he had placed Arraon above consoling her on that night. She had grabbed the creature and sent him away as she collected herself in her chambers; after all, what right did he have to place the baseborn above herself? Though, even after that she found herself attracted, connected to the little cub. It was soon apparent that she would need to find a name. It came to her rather quickly, as it was with all her precious things. This little cub was just another one of her valuable _Jewels._ Jewel had only seemed appropriate to her then. On the rare occasion that she could converse with Jaime, she had discovered that he had decided to name it after what was always dependable and by his side: his _Dagger._

As for the bastard, he had chosen to call his albino _Daemon, _after the Targaryen Great Bastard. It wasn't surprising to her but father should have cause for concern if he idolised a man that betrayed his own house and blood. The murderous dwarf was so simple he couldn't from words, she doubted if he would ever advance from that. Naturally, he hadn't chose a name but those monsters were _fierce_ when it regarded one another. When Jaime or the wet nurses weren't looking, she'd slap the thing that killed her mother. The second time she tried, his own little guardian bit her finger as its teeth had already started to grow and cause her finger to bleed. She promised to get revenge on both of them someday.

After Jewel had finished sucking on the wet cloth, her lady friend grew bored of the room and decided to take a walk. "Come on, Jewel," she called as she stood up and looked at her slightly tattered dress in the gold-rimmed mirror. "Eh, I wanted to try out the new myrish lace anyway." She shrugged before she pulled her torn emerald gown off and replaced it with the new one, coloured in Lannister crimson and cut with the deep green of the myrish shores. She turned to the animal purring at her heel, as if motioning for her to get on with it. "Alright girl, we're going. Seven hells." She giggled as she finally made her way out of her chambers, with the cub at her heel. The little lioness had been the length of her arm the night Jaime brought her and stood to the height of her ankle but within a fortnight Cersei was struggling to hold her in both arms and she was beginning to stand halfway to her knees. She wondered when her little jewel would grow to an entire crown.

As she walked through the rocky halls of the Rock, one major change she had took notice of was the looks that the Household had given her, whether it was the Guards, Septons or Maids, it didn't matter, they all regarded her with a degree more respect than they had before and the newest staff had the undeniable fear instilled in them. She smirked to know how she was able to bend them to her will, she could hardly wait to be queen. She finally decided that the course to take was to watch her brother's train. As she neared closer and closer to the ring she began to hear the distant clinks of swords. Well, swords and spear this week. For whatever reason, Oberyn Martell seemed to prefer that style to that of the other six kingdoms.

The Martell caravan had arrived a week ago and had been nothing but a hassle on their family. Though she could hardly blame them for their poor timing, the ruling 'princess' of Dorne and her youngest children Elia and Oberyn, separated by a year had been on a journey through Dorne and the West. Cersei wouldn't have known about that if timid guards fearing for their tongues didn't exist in the Rock. Elia was nearly a year older than Cersei and her brother though she was pleasant enough company. Her needlework was adequate, her conversation was polite and her singing was…bearable. Oberyn however? When he wasn't complaining about the food or the clothes provided, he whined about the weather and the room uncle Kevan had given them. For whatever reason. Though his growing annoyance may have been understandable as nearly every day they had demanded to see Tyrion and she had denied them on the pretence she would show them "_soon."_ Perhaps she would.

In time she came to the edge of the ring with Jewel going to play with her brothers by the sword racks. Elia and her handmaiden, Ashara Dayne sat cheering on Oberyn as he danced his way around her own brothers. Elia barley seemed to notice her as she was too focused on the fighting. It was an impressive display, Oberyn charged at Jaime with his spear as Arraon came behind him and cast his twin swords at Oberyn who threw his own weapon back blocking the swords. As he broke against the thinswords, he tried to knock Arraon off balance but could not delay as he had to swing back to deflect against her lovers oncoming blow. Although his timing was too slow and Jaime struck him on the shoulder causing the Dornish prince to topple off balance but he was agile and regained it just as quickly to thrust the spear tip at Arraon who locked his swords in an 'x' shape, pushing the pressure of Oberyn's spear off of him. The bastard was unable to overcome Oberyn who pushed him to his knees, much to his elder sister's delight, though Oberyn should have been watching his back as Jaime came up behind him and slashed at him a plethora of times. As he backed the young prince into a corner, Arraon returned to his feet and on a move both of her brothers' pushed their swords against the spear knocking him onto his back. Arraon moved his blades to Oberyn's neck as Jaime stood tall over him. "It appears we have won, my prince." Jaime smirked.

"I suppose I should think before making accusations in the future about you Lannisters" he said, adding a smug "or Hills." To both Cersei's and Oberyn's pleasure and the bastard's displeasure, though she noticed Jaime had a sad look in his beautiful emerald eyes. She felt the need to announce her presence with a slow clap.

"What a fantastic performance. What was the reasoning behind it?"

"A bet we had going on, sweet sister." The bastard explained, helping Oberyn to his feet.

"Regarding what?"

"Our guests implied that our weapons were merely for ceremonial purpose and we don't know how to use them." Arraon explained. She gave a nod in response as the lions returned to their owners.

"So," Elia began and Cersei's teeth began to grit, "can we see the babe now?" she pleaded, as Cersei gave her common response of "soon."

"What's going on?" Arraon asked after replacing his blades, his blood eyed albino at his heel.

"Oh, well we wanted to see the baby, the Imp was what they were calling him in Oldtown."

"Among other things…" Oberyn murmured to himself

"So, Oberyn and I would very much like to see him." She smiled prettily.

"Yes, and you will. Tomorrow." she promised them.

"Come on Cersei, what's the harm in showing them?" Arraon pleaded with her. The bastard didn't get it, the 'Imp' was part of their family. He shouldn't be paraded around like a mummer's parade! He needed to be locked up in the most desolate, deep, dark pit Casterly Rock had to offer and never be allowed to see the light of day again.

"There is no harm, Brother" she admitted, a taint of scorn in the last word "And I will. Soon."

"Well, why not do it now?" the bastard persisted.

"I. Will." She proclaimed, trying to get some time with Jaime alone.

"Well, I'm going to take them down now. Feel free to join us." He announced as he moved to walk towards the nursery with the Martells in tow. Reluctantly, she followed suit. They came upon the nursery that had been made up for her new baby brother. On their way, Cersei had made her way to the place that she belonged; at the head of their entourage as she reached out for the door handle it turned on its own as Tyrion's wet nurse came out in front of them. An ugly, miserable creature. Most of her teeth were missing, which accompanied her ugly nose and short hazy hair, a scalp showing even from beneath the septa's coif. She was a hideous creation, though her tits were bountiful enough; perfect to be his cow.

"What do you want, my lords?" she spat.

"We're going to see our brother now." She smiled, sweet as a winter rose. After which she rolled her emerald eyes, and if she wasn't dumb as a dog she would get the point.

"Apologies, milady. Your Lord father has forbidden it, now away with ya'. I'll have no disturbances on my watch." She snapped, to Jewels immense displeasure as her lioness moved to the nurse's leg and growled at the creature.

"Excuse me?" she laughed, as Jewel returned to her mistress' side and the stroking of her head. "Excuse me, you miserable, died up, shrivelled, old cunt? You would dare, you have the audacity, the very nerve to _dare_ to tell me to go? I would remind you of who exactly you are speaking to. I am a daughter of the rock and I would care to remind you that Tyrion is my brother. He's mine, and you're just a milk cow, you have no right to tell me what to do. Now be silent, or I shall have my father cut out your tongue. A cow doesn't need a tongue; only udders. Or perhaps you'll become so overcome with grief over my lady mother's death, you'll pitch yourself off the White cliffs." She paused to blink her long eyelashes. "Why are you still here?" she barked, as the wet nurse almost tripped on her own dress trying to run away. "Now, let's get this over with." She declared, as she marched into the nursery with a series of gaping mouths following suit.

It was hardly the most elaborate room but well lit enough to guide guests to the currently concealed crib. Cersei strode over and looked over the little beast again. His misshaped head, the mismatched eyes, the black swathes of hair, the voice that never ceased, the equally deformed pet of his with its head rested on his lap. It was astounding to think that that beast came from the same brood of her beautiful Jewel. As she looked down on him, she suddenly felt a surge of pride at revealing this deformed monstrosity to the Dornish. She was waiting for their response but was surprised, no shocked by the noise Elia made. It was the same high pitched noise Melara made when she saw a puppy, or the noise Jeyne made when she discovered a new shipment of Lemon cakes was coming into Lannisport.

"Well, this is the biggest disappointment of this part of the country." Oberyn laughed. "Lord Tywin's Doom isn't a monster. He's just a little baby." Cersei could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"_No,"_ she reassured herself "_They just don't see what he is yet."_ She confided in herself as she pushed the deformed lion out of the way and ripped his swaddling clothes off. He disgusted her, the demon of Lannister. "A little baby?" she whispered as she moved her nails scratching up his legs to his misshapen cock, pinching it. "This 'little baby' killed my mother to gain entry to the world. How could you possibly say that?!" she seethed as she pinched harder and harder on him. She wasn't sure why but his shrieks gave her pleasure, if she went any further she might pull it off. Good. His disgusting seed didn't deserve to pass on.

"Cersei, stop it. You're hurting him." Arraon pleaded and although she preferred the bastard to the dwarf, she couldn't see herself ever listening to him. It took the surprise return of Tyrion's own beast clamping its jaw down on her fingers arousing a scream from her as she pulled away.

"It doesn't matter." She proclaimed, turning to the Dornish "Everyone says he's going to die soon. He shouldn't even have lived this long."

"No, you're wrong. He _will_ live." Arraon announced, replacing the dwarf's smallclothes and setting the cub on his lap.

"And how do you know?" she asked, sucking on her bleeding finger.

"I _know_, Cersei." He assured her. Cersei scoffed in response and called Jewel to her side as she made her way to her chamber. She just wanted to lie in bed and cuddle Jewel in her arms until she forgot that thing even existed.

The Lost Princess

When they had first crossed the border with the Reach and the Westerlands, very lady at every castle had told her about Casterly Rock. The immense stronghold of the Lannisters, but she hadn't just realised how big it could be. She wished that she had paid more attention to them, or to be more accurate she wished that she had listened to Oberyn. "Elia, this maze of a castle is massive. Are you sure you don't want me to come with you. What if something-"Oberyn had offered, that same touching concern blatant in his dark pools of eyes.

"_Oberyn_." She had sighed, exasperated, _"I'm just going to the Gardens, I'll be back in a few hours. Don't worry." _Though now she could hardly find her way around, every hallway in this damned castle looked the same with the same crimson banners and the same gold rimmed doors. She had a thought to ask the guards around for directions but after she approached one with a scar across his eye, who had gave a menacing growl at her, she suddenly decided that she would be able to make her own way around, which was what she was trying to do. She strolled forward, desperately trying to find anything that could be familiar. She wanted to sit in the corner and cry to herself until someone came for her, but she would not bow or bend or break. She was a Martell, she was a Princess of Dorne, and one day she would be a Lannister. That was what mother had promised her; _"If no one else will take our best offer, then Lord Tywin will. His wife was one of my best friends, you will be betrothed to Jaime before long, I promise you." _

At present, mother was closeted with Lord Tywin discussing specifics regarding a potential marriage. She could hardly wait for the results of this, she could see her wedding day so clearly. As the son of the Hand, Jaime would be married to her in the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing. She could see him, his beautiful golden hair neatly trimmed back; his shining emerald eyes fixed on her as he clasped the Golden lion upon crimson around her shoulders. As long as his eyes were that colour, she would be fine. She had seen Arraon Hill hanging around even before he took them down to the nurery. He seemed distant and sullen to her but there was something attractive about him, though that was likely a result of his bloodline. She could wait for that day but not to find her family again in this endless web of corridors and lion symbols.

As she came around another corner, a figure half her size came out of nowhere and roused a small yelp out of her. She saw one of them, the snow coated lion of Lannister. One of the vast overgrown lions that lived here. As it forced her back to a wall and began to growl at her, beginning to bear its teeth and move its nozzle closer to her hand. She wanted to move, to step away or slap the overgrown tomcat away but she was too overcome with fear to move in any direction. Its blood red eyes moved closer to her shaking hand…as it stuck its tongue out to lick her fingers giving soft purrs as opposed to the aggressive growls that had been there barely a minute ago. As she began to stroke his fur, she cooed to the beast as it began to relax beneath her palm. "Daemon, to me." A voice called. Elia looked up as the lion returned to his master's side. Arraon Hill caressed the head of his guard as the beast inclined its head. "Apologies, princess. I hope he wasn't bothering you." He asked her, a mark of concern in his voice

"No." She said, unsure of what to call him "I was simply leaving the gardens for an evening walk. I'm just going back to my chambers now."

"Are you quite sure about that?" he asked, bemused with himself.

"Yes, why?" she replied curiously.

"This is the west wing of the rock. Your family's apartments are in the northern keep of Casterly Rock." He explained, a bigger smirk appearing on his lips. "Forgive me, but it would appear that you are lost."

"Don't worry, I can find my own way back."

"As you wish, but you know what they say about our halls…" he responded as he turned his back to her turning to walk away. It was then she suddenly remembered what the ominous 'they' would say about Casterly Rock; "_Lannister Halls are as boundless as Lannister coin."_ As Hill now stood a couple of yards in front of her, she called out to him again as his overgrown cat cocked its head to her. "Yes, my princess?" he smiled with his lips and hazel eyes.

"I could use some help in finding my way I suppose." She laughed uncertainly, as she scratched her elbows.

"Very well, princess."

"Thank you, Lord Hill." She replied casually but she noticed that while the curves on his lips continued to remain, the smiling light in his eyes had quickly died away. The next portion of their journey across the boundless halls of the rock was suffered in silence. It had taken her a while to figure out but she realised that bastard in the other kingdoms must be sullen and distant by nature.

Though if that were true, why would he be helping her at all? Perhaps they simply didn't want to be reminded of the nature of their birth, due to the social shame in these parts of the country. She'd have to remember that in future when dealing with them outside of Dorne. As she tried to break the deafening silence between them, she stretched for any topic that might warrant anything more than a one phrase response. "Your pet is very beautiful."

"I wouldn't consider Daemon a pet, but I suppose he is rather…striking."

"Well, what would you call him?"

"A companion. In my circumstance, I should be fortunate for that." He spoke in a detached manner.

"Fortunate? How so?"

"I'm a bastard, I'll never have lands to inherit and I can't even display my father's colours in their true form. Fighting for the honour of my house is all I can dream for, to have a loyal companion by my side is more than I could have hoped for. Claws and fangs don't hurt either."

She wasn't exactly sure what to say to that but remember her courtesies; "As you say, my lord. What-" she had begun but quickly decided the question was inappropriate, especially considering his 'natural' birth.

"You were saying?" he replied.

"Forgive me, I shouldn't pry."

"Perhaps, but you already started."

"What was the lady Joanna like?" she asked, admittedly blunt. She only asked because it was all the people of Casterly rock were concerned about, Ser Kevan who had seen to them was disturbed. During their fight, even Jaime had looked distracted in some way. She must have been some woman. The only one who looked unchanged was the Hill. Though the reaction she received from him at this time seemed all too similar.

"Lady Joanna?" He whispered hollowly, "She was kind, warm, loving to a fault. Some said she brought out the only warmth my father has. Others spoke of her strength. A true lioness of the rock." His eyes gave a shining glint as he stroked daemon's fur on the last point.

"She certainly sounds like a formidable woman, indeed. Her death must be very hard, I could only imagine what that must be like." She responded, courteous as she had been raised to be.

"Hard for most, my lady." Was the response she received.

"What do you mean?" she asked inquisitively but Hill's reluctant response came out hesitant and with an air that did not give Elia comfort.

"Though she was…a greet woman, I cannot shed a tear for her. Despite all she did, or could ever have done, she was never my mother. I cannot mourn her as much as my brother, no matter how much I try."

"Who was your own mother?" she asked, and she could see she had struck a chord and apologized for her intrusion.

"No, it's fine. The truth is I've never known and my father has never spoken of her. I couldn't possibly say why that could be. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason. Just curious." She causally explained to the shrugging of his shoulders.

"There's a lot of that these days." He observed.

"A lot of what?"

"Curiosity. Travellers and singers are always looking for whatever gossip they are able to scrounge out of the castle staff."

"I can imagine, what that's like, when Maester…" she had begun but suddenly stopped for fear of embarrassment.

"You were saying..?"

"No, no, forget it. My mother says I shouldn't talk about it."

"Come on, you can tell me."

"When I was younger, the Maester at Sunspear explained I had a rare condition. Within weeks, rumours spread around Dorne and all kinds of mummers and begging brothers came to Sunspear to try and heal me. Eventually, father had them kept outside the Winding Walls."

"You have a condition?" he asked her, as if surprised.

"Yes, something about my muscles which makes it weaker than most. I don't travel as often as I'd like."

"I wouldn't have guessed that, you seem as normal as any other girl I've known. Prettier too." He told her, the beginnings of a blush forming.

"Thank you. I…I…" she faltered as she couldn't think of what to say. The last click of their journey had been in silence but she found herself opening up to this boy now he seemed a little more interesting, or perhaps a little less sullen. Once the familiar sight of the sun and spear that graced the sides of the doors to her apartments approached them, Arraon Hill stopped at the door.

"I guess these are your chambers, I will bid you farewell." He began as he brought his lips to her fingers. "Good night, princess." He smiled as he left, his 'companion' at his heels. That night, she dreamed of the eyes that would look at her in the Great Sept.

Tywin

"And you're sure she won't leave without making the offer?" Lord Tywin asked his brother.

"No, Ty. She refuses all offers from our banner men until she has spoken to you directly and has heard it '_from his own mouth, Ser."_ His younger sibling explained as he waited for his Lord to give his response. Tywin picked up another glass half filled with Arbor Red as he took another sip. Normally, he preferred Arbor gold but he couldn't bear the colour at the moment…"_Her beautiful hair…" _As he placed it back down and put his gloved fingers to his chin before coming to the realisation that this would have to be done.

"Very well. Send for her." He commanded as Kevan inclined his head. He had always been a good boy, dutiful and obedient to Tywin on all accounts. He did not have Tyg's temper or Gerion's apathy. "Kevan." He called after his brother, who turned back almost immediately. "Thank you." Was all he said to him, yet he knew it would have been enough for his brother

"Of course, my lord." He bowed his head respectfully before he went to fetch the Dornish princess. He had to remember to reward him for his actions, but later. Once Alliana was dealt with, his thought could drift back to the woman who had been torn from him. "_The most powerful man in the Kingdoms!"_ he would have laughed to himself, yet all of it felt hollow. What use was sending someone to the block, if you could not call another back from beyond? For one of the more increasingly recent times of late, his mind went to thoughts of the past. The day he proposed, their wedding, even the simplest morning he had awoken with those lioness' eyes looking up at him. As he considered this, he stepped out of his chair and began pacing his ostentatious chamber for some unknown reason. He remembered just what kind of a woman she was, beautiful in all ways, kind, loving above all else.

He cast his eye to a dresser on the opposite side of the chamber and something about it drew him. Other faint memories came to him, the day she became heavy with Cersei and Jaime, and more importantly the day she had returned from the capital and laid her eyes on Arraon. He doubted she knew about his origins but she had never deigned to ask. Her only demand was that he not be sent away but accepted as his own. He was certain he loved her from that point onwards. As he stood before the drawer, he pulled it open and began digging through scores of old clothes and belongings until he found it again, that which he though had been lost for so long.

It was a bracelet, now beginning to age with time as all things did. An ornate design with the sigils for the Houses of Banefort, Crakehall, Lefford, Kenning and Serrett on the left side. The right featured the sigils of the Sarsfields, Marbrands, Braxes, Westerlings and a seven pointed star upon a shield of seven sections. The centrepiece was a lion and a lioness, their tails forming a heart shape above their heads and their paws interlocked. It had been a pure golden colour when he gifted it to _her_ on the night of their betrothal and very little had changed. Upon its back was etched the unforgettable words "_Dronst hyyp baddo, duyun yangu arkhiran."_ Her gift to him had been a silver ring with a lion's head. Less ornate, though he had cherished any gift from her nonetheless. She had been so beautiful that night… Most highborn ladies learnt the speech of the Freehold, though never her. She preferred the barbarian tongue and could ride as well as any of them. If he focused, he could still see her face, hear her laughter, her childish taunts and see the unending smile of hers. Even her eyes seemed all too- "Lord Tywin, Princess Alliana of Dorne requests an audience," A Guardsman called out from behind the door.

"Allow her in." he responded as he threw the bracelet back among the contents of the drawer, he could not allow his thought to stray to her now. Not when the mother of his trueborn children, and his true love had died.

"My lord hand." She bowed as the door locked shut behind her. She was a typical princess from that region of the country. Tall, dark and fair, with her hair done up in a braid with diamonds fashioned in the style of suns embedded through it. A golden spear going through that as well. Her skin was that of the Rhoynar, the salty Dornish of the Deep South with eyes as black as her curls.

"Princess." He greeted her uncaringly. "Please, be seated." He offered as she took a seat opposite her, endlessly smiling as he poured wine for both of them. The two of them sat in silence for a while until she chose to break the silence.

"How have you been?" she asked, with Tywin's only response being his unblinking eyes. "Of course, I shouldn't push it. We were close, the three of us in King's Landing. Joanna and I would spend hours talking about our future children and the marriages between them. Though, after the King's coronation she changed. Rhaella was more reclusive, easier to anger, quick to dismiss. I was shocked when Rhaella dismissed her, with no reason!"

"I couldn't tell you why that was." He lied.

"But, what could I tell you that you don't already know? I didn't come to reminisce, I came to talk about our children"

"Very well. What do you wish to discuss?"

"What do you think? An alliance, between Dorne and the West through marriage. Now as Doran already has a…offer from Norvos," Tywin did not fail to notice the contempt in her voice, "but I was thinking that for Oberyn and Cersei-"

"Excuse me?" Lord Tywin interrupted, as surprised as if the princess had proposed outlawing taxes. "_Cersei_ and Oberyn? Surely you jest, princess?"

"Is there a problem here, Lord Lannister?" she asked, startled at his objection.

"My sister was married to a second son of a lesser lord due to my father's weakness. I am not prepared to subject my daughter to such a fate. Furthermore, Cersei is meant for prince Rhaegar, and Rhaegar _alone._" He asserted firmly, to make it as clear as possible to her. Were this anyone else on any other day, he might have veiled his disdain or invented an excuse but on this day, he just wanted her on the first coach back to Sunspear.

"As you wish, then how about we start to discuss a dowry for Elia and Jaime-"

"No." was the only answer he gave.

"No? And who is for your golden son?"

"Jaime…" he did pause to consider his next words so as not to start an incident, "Jaime is meant for other purposes, greater matches." Though the sandy wasteland of Dorne, with its sparse and population and distance from the other kingdoms was an unfitting alliance for his firstborn son and heir, Tywin could hardly deny that the 50,000 swords and spears of Dorne would come in useful if the Westerlands found itself in future conflict with the other kingdoms. More so, when he considered Aerys' increasingly erratic behaviour. "However, I can offer my other son Arraon as an offer for Elia."

"The Bastard? Do you mean to insult my family's honour and dignity with such a proposal?" she scoffed, growing more evidently aggravated with every passing second.

"If I meant to insult House Martell, I would have offered the dwarf." He stated. "Now, tell me; what was your original proposal of Elia's dowry?"

"Uh, I'd have put it around a few thousand dragons. Five perhaps, but if you're willing to negotiate-"

"Two thousand golden dragons." He offered her with no hesitation.

"Two-" she exclaimed, gasping.

"You offer five for Jaime but as Arraon is half a Lannister, I am willing to half this dowry and I do not believe in half measures. Two and a half would just be troublesome, princess."

"It doesn't matter how low you place it, a bastard he remains."

"Do you realise what I am offering you? What I know is you have been guest at various keeps along the coast of Dorne and the Westerlands looking for betrothals. What do you hopes to gain from these lesser houses? A little land and coin? No, you are Martell, your children are blood of the Rhoynar. You would be wise therefore, to seek an offer from other noble houses. In this regard, you have come to the Lion's door to petition my favour. If you turn away now, what will you do? Another noble house, but who would accept your offers? Who _could _accept your daughter at such a low rate bar me? Now, that is the offer I am willing to concede to; agree to betroth Elia to Arraon for the dowry price of two thousand golden dragons, and the self-same bride price. Refuse, and a lesser house will readily accept your daughter due to your own standing. Though, what will you have gained?" he finished as he reached for a quill and parchment, "Now, shall I draw up an engue or arrange cabins for the first ship back to Sunspear?"

"I appreciate that, Lord Tywin but the shame of marrying my daughter to a baseborn. It's too much to even consider."

"They do not have to necessarily be privy to the knowledge of such things." He said, suspiciously.

"What are you suggesting, my lord?"

"A marriage pact." He offered, refilling their glasses, "You know of what I speak."

"All too well." She whispered. Suh clandestine offers had existed since the inception of marriage, an arrangement for two to be wed at a more appropriate time kept a secret from all, especially the bride and groom. Bar the contract signers and a witness naturally. "When would the best time for such an occasion be?"

"When Arraon has proved himself worthy of the union. I trust that he will have no trouble on that score."

"And if I refuse this offer?"

"Then neither of us will have gained or lost anything, apart from our time. Now, shall I send you on your way, Princess," he began once more reaching for an ink stained quill "Or do you consent to this match?"


	6. Chapter 6- Arraon III

**Chapter Six**

Arraon III

As they stood over the hills surrounding Lannisport atop their steeds, he looked down and saw Daemon and Dagger wrestling down in the foothills and thought about how hard it would be for them. They were growing fast too. It wasn't an easy thing to leave behind your family, but it was something they would have to get used to. Something Arraon would need to adjust to as well. Soon enough after his eleventh nameday, the King called father back to court to resume his post as hand of the King. He had called Arraon and Jaime to his chambers that night and told Jaime he was to be squired at Crakehall for old Lord Sunmer. Jaime looked as excited as he ever had and practically jumped back to his chambers, the growing Dagger at his heel. When Arraon asked where his father intended to send him he told him; "_You will be accompanying mu retinue to King's landing to serve as a squire there."_

"_Who for, father?"_ he had inquired.

"_Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard." _Father had replied. Arraon could hardly have believed it, he would be as close to the greatest knight in the realm as anyone could get. His rise to the order would be assured if he could impress the White Bull, but another of father's conditions did surprise him. _"However,"_ he voiced "_There is another task that I will require you to complete when we reach the capital."_

"_What?"_ he had inquired of him.

"_I'll explain more when we're in King's landing. I would advise getting to know someone there, and let him…gather you. Get to know him."_

"_Whatever for?"_

"_I will explain more in the capital."_

"_Very well, I will do as you ask."_ He had solemnly promised.

Jaime got a look of desolation, accompanied by a sly smile upon his lips. "What are you thinking about brother?" Arraon inquired of him.

"The hills here are beautiful, aren't they?"

"I've never really thought about it that way." Arraon admitted, as his pony shivered beneath him. He looked over the hills and the truth Jaime spoke of was evident. The rocky surfaces touched by the midday sun and the lush green fields stretching out for miles beneath them, the infamous Goldroad. King's Landing would be a different environment altogether, he had read about the squashed slums of Flea Bottom that composed the majority of that city. Knowing his brother would be nearly three kingdoms away was a prospect he would need to get used to, but a reality that was inevitable. "Though I suppose there is a certain beauty to them." He conceded eventually. "Right, we'd better be getting back. Father will wonder where we've gone."

"No, come on. Just a little further!" he pleaded.

"Father said the litter was leaving at midday, and he wants us at the head." Arraon responded.

"_Any Lord that does not march at the head of his host is not worthy to lead it."_ Jaime deadpanned, rolling his eyes in a disregarding tone. He shook his head with disgrace and moved the reins in his hands, motioning his mount towards the bottom of the hill. "Well, I'm going to ride down the road for the last time. If you'd like to stop me, you'll need to catch me." He announced with that self-satisfied grin he was prone to get, as he called dagger to him. Daemon seemed to reluctantly return to Arraon's side as well.

"Jaime, don't be so ridiculous. Come on." He pleaded as he motioned for the equine to turn in the direction of his sibling, Jaime turned his head and Arraon glimpsed his lips turn up as his brother kicked the side of his steed, motioning for it to spur onwards as Arraon called out after him. "_By the Gods…"_ He thought to himself despairingly as he quickened the pace after Jaime. The horses they rode upon were not the same ponies that they had learnt to saddle as children but they were not as big as the thundering warhorses of Fathers knights. Although they were fast enough to serve their purposes, which in Jaime's case was countless and pointless races. Though if Arraon always won, he might have seen the appeal of the pursuit as well.

Jaime thundered away down the hillside road, with Arraon riding swiftly after him in hot pursuit. As he cast a glance to a nearby hillside, he saw dagger and daemon chasing each other across it; barely skimming along a thin line of rocky terrain. Dagger was practically throwing himself across the walkway, giving no clue as to how he reached his objective, only caring that he eventually got there. There could not have been any doubt as to who that animal owed his loyalty. As he allowed himself a smile at the situation, he continued to charge after his brother leaving Arraon behind in the dust of the western valleys. He spurred his steed onwards even further, as the dust kicked up by Jaime thrown into his face was rubbed away by his swiping hand. Jaime had always been the better swordsman, yet riding was where he had slipped up. Not that he was an incompetent rider, but Jaime preferred the stronger and larger mounts that allowed him to stand string and tall above others. Arraon preferred the swifter and faster horses that completed the task quicker.

Jaime was concerned with the more glorious tasks that would bring more honour to his House, Arraon had no house and arms to bring honour to. As he considered this, he noticed that the hills around them would soon close together with barely enough room for them to move by. As he turned the colt to the side, with a rising cliff face above the main path he could now rise above the main path that Jaime rode on. He kicked the side and could feel the thundering of hooves beneath him, and now Jaime was beneath him as well. Now was the time to act, this had to be precise, he hoped this would work. He struck the horse once again and turned the reins to the right forcing the creature to leap off the ledge. As it's hooved landed firmly in front of Jaime the equine reared its fore hooves stopping Jaime in his tracks and near caused him to tumble from the steed.

"Now, about going home…" he declared proudly.

"Alright," he conceded, turning the horse around "We can go now, besides father will have our heads if we stay out here any longer."

"That's what I told you the first time!" Arraon argued.

"Yes, but I didn't agree with you then."

"Fuck you." Was the only response he could become bothered to muster. As they made their way out of the canyon and made their trek back to Casterly Rock, Daemon and Dagger came back to them covered in dust and their claws were soaked in mud. A pity it wasn't possible to know how their own little adventure had gone down but Arraon still wasn't entirely sure why the events that had transpired between them had. Which was why he had raised the question in the first place.

"Why did I do what?" he inquired of his elder brother.

"Why did you start us off on a pointless race through the Casterly Valleys?" he asked to the downcast look of his fantastic emerald eyes.

"We're going to be squires. Who knows when we'll be back, five years, ten. I just wanted to take it all in for the last time. I'll miss the White Cliffs, I'll miss the Rock, and I'll miss Cersei. I might even miss father's incessant, droning speeches about lineage and family on some level, but you know what I'll miss above all?"

"What?" he enquired, as they casually strode along the Goldroad with the tip of Casterly Rock beginning to emerge in the horizon.

"The Hill." He smirked deviously, to Arraon's initial confusion.

"_Does he mean the Hill we were standing on today, the Hills guarding Lannisport, or perhaps…" _he carefully considered to himself before it finally dawned on him, his name. They shared a laugh at that as an outrider rode furiously past the duo. As they passed Lannisport towards the ancestral seat of their forefathers, the commotion became more apparent with crimson cloaks and hedge knights flurrying by them. When they passed through the Lion's Mouth, the first thing they did was go to father. As of now, they were ready to ride but they were allowed to say some of their final farewells. There was no question as to whom Jaime would go to. Arraon, however, had farewells of his own to attend to.

With his sword by his right and daemon by his left, he entered the place that only he could consider sacred. The stone Garden, the place where he had bargained his brother's life on a matter of faith. Where he renounced the false seven that had torn her from his brother, the Gods he had beseeched gave his brother life. He was forever indebted to them, and a Lannister always pays his debts; trueborn or otherwise. He had been spending more time here as of late. When he felt lost or worried, the power behind the weirwood seemed to guide him and although he knew of a Godswood in King's landing; he also knew it would never be the same as the stone Garden. He sadly considered this to himself as he knelt before the weeping face once again, daemon silent in the presence of it.

"_Gods of river and stone,"_ he prayed silently to himself, "_I have other duties in mien own life that I must attend and whether I will be able to make these prayers is uncertain. But I know that through daemon, the guardian you entrusted to my side, you will always be watching me. I pray only that you would keep my blood safe from the snare of the false gods that tore up your roots and to guide me as you always have. This I pray, in your sight."_ He finished the prayer as he inclined his head, he never felt right rising straight after a prayer, but instead relied on their answer. The only one they seemed to know how to give. They said the blowing of the wind was their whispers. Then again, they also said the Others ride giant spiders and Dothraki Horselords fuck their stallions.

He was about to rise just then when another sound caught his attention. "Awaon!" the little voice called, and Arraon spun around smiling to see his little brother come waddling towards him, his stunted pet guarding his rear. He scooped the infant up and tossed Tyrion into the air as he laughed in that babbling voice of his, as suddenly a thought came to him.

"What are you doing here, where's the nice lady?" The 'lady,' being a low rate wet nurse.

"Gone wif man." Was the Imp's response.

"_Cersei was right her on that count, the bloody whore._" He thought to himself, no one left his little brother to crawl the Halls of Casterly Rock alone. Ugly and stunted he may have been, but he would be more of a Lannister than he ever could be. Not that it was his fault. "Alright then, come on and say farewell to Jaime." He told him as he put the Imp back down beside his overzealous guardian, quickly withdrawing his hand before it nipped his thumb.

"Why…why say farewell?" he asked curiously, as Arraon moved to leave the garden. Tyrion near ran after him; trying to clutch to his leg. It was something that he had been doing as of late, trying to walk on his stunted little legs. Though, if something could be said about his little brother, it was that he did not give up easily. Jaime and Arraon had noticed that of late, when he came crawling after them at a pace he must have assumed was quick, they still had to stop in order for Tyrion to catch up. Though Arraon didn't mind much, it wasn't his fault he was born that way; they wanted the dwarf to have some good in his childhood.

"Because Jaime and I are leaving, Tyrion. We've gone over this." He explained, to his brother's disappointment yet reluctant acceptance. He followed at his heels, babbling in his own little language that sounded vaguely like High Valyrian. Not a tongue Arraon hill had ever been able to grasp. As they passed into the Castle courtyard, the final preparations of father's Litter was being lined up and Arraon observed Jaime and Cersei talking with her friends on the side and stable boys with their horses, Crakehall men with them to act as Jaime's escort. Father approached him, upon a great black stallion, armoured in great crimson and golden armour.

"Arraon, I trust your final preparations are in order?"

"Yes, father." Arraon smiled, "I believe so."

"Good, now leave the Imp behind. We should have left by now." He ordered as he strode off, bold as any true King. Arraon and Jaime went to the stable boys holding the horses and mounted simultaneously, as Arraon observed their clothing he was uneasy about them. Matching doublets of cut crimson and gold cloth, pauldrons fashioned in the shapes of lion's heads, black leather boots and blood red cloaks that draped over the horses rears. Tyrion looked up at them as they gave him a final look of sympathy, accompanied by comforting (and heartfelt) goodbyes, before they made their way to father's side.

It was not long before they finally strolled out of Casterly Rock and Jaime went to the south, towards Crakehall surrounded by guards bearing the boar. "Well, I guess this is where I leave you brother."

"I guess this is."

"When next we see one another, we'll have 'Ser' before our names." Jaime pointed out.

"Assuming we don't die trying to get them."

"Come on!" Jaime carped, "It'll take more than a stray blade to fell us."

"I agree." He conceded, "You Lannisters are hard to kill."

"Some of us are. Those of us with full grown legs." Jaime trailed off

"You shouldn't worry so much about Tyrion. Father won't let the castellan have Tyrion out in full view, he'll be safe from the outside." _If only the same could be said for those on the inside…_

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Farewell, Hill." Jaime said, extending his hand.

"Goodbye, Lannister." He responded, accepting the handshake, but Jaime pulled him in and embraced him fiercely. Then he moved, turning to return to fathers proceed as Jaime turned to leave for Crakehall. Then Arraon rode by his father's right hand side for the rest of the journey to King's landing, and his future in the Kingsguard.

The Goldroad that connected King's landing to Casterly Rock ended at the Lion gate, armed by the notoriously infamous Gold Cloaks of the city. "_Though the reasons for their infamy might not be the ones that would satisfy them."_ Arraon thought to himself as father's Red cloaks cleared a path through the rabble of King's landing; proclaiming the Hand's return. As he looked up he saw Aegon's High Hill, the Keep built by King Maegor perched upon it as he could not bear anything else.

He could hardly believe that _this_ was the capital of the Seven Kingdoms! Even the poorest of Lannisport could bathe in the waters of the Sunset Sea and maintain some display of proper clothing, but the rabble here? They were starved and unwashed; thieves and rapers and whores, likely the lot of them. No wonder the city looked as it did. It was filthy, shit flowed down openly down the streets and the rabble stood and gaped at him from behind their peers. Even though he was surrounded by a column of father's guard, he felt intimidated by their hateful eyes. He pulled his hand back to rest his hand on the pommel of his katana. When he heard daemon whining from beneath him, he threw a morsel onto the ground of the city.

It then became clear _why_ these small folk were crowding around them now; when was a crofter or a back alley whore even going to catch a mere _glimpse _of a pendric lion? Though he tried not to pay them any mind as they continued their trek to the Red Keep.

The Castle itself lived up to its namesake, an entire keep soiled the colour of blood. Some said it was soaked with the blood Aegon the Conqueror spilled to forge the Iron throne. "_Delusional fools."_ Was the name that father prescribed for them. In truth, Grand Maester Desmond's "_A History of King's Landing and the Red Keep,"_ explained that Aegon chose the stones as they reminded his of the flames of his dragon, Balerion the Dread. He wanted to remind his people the price of defiance. "_Lords and Kings that are feared remain in power longer than those who are loved."_ Was another of father' anecdotes. He could write a tome as large as any library based entirely of off father's lessons.

When they passed through the gatehouse of the Red Keep, Father, and his honour guard; now headed by the newly anointed Illyn Payne, came upon the drawn moat bridge of Maegor's infamous Holdfast. In front of them stood ten individuals, seven were obvious; the white cloaks of the Kingsguard. One day he had hoped to stand amongst these legends; Aemon the Dragonknight, Olyvar Oakheart, Duncan the Tall, among others. The Kingmaker for one. Before them stood two people in golden crown wrought in the shape of dragons; King Aerys and his Queen Rhaella. To the left of them stood a man in a scarlet doublet and leather greaves clutching a scroll.

It then became clear to Arraon that he was the royal steward. Once father had come near enough, the steward spoke up. "His Grace King Aerys of the House Targaryen, the Second of his name..." _Titles, titles, titles… _Arraon thought to himself as he droned on… "…the realm does hereby welcome the return of his honoured friend an Lord Tywin of the House Lannister, the Lord of Casterly Rock, the shield of Lannisport, the Warden of the West, Lord paramount of the Westerlands and hand of the King!" he sang before he disappeared from view.

It was then that the King came forth to welcome father. The infamous looks of the Valyrian Dragon lords was clear in Aerys; platinum hair and eyes of amethyst, yet there was little else connecting him to the beauty of the freehold. Tired eyes and hair that reached down to his shoulders, he looked as if he slouched and a dishevelled aura came from him. His doublet looked thick and came with many layers. "_Doubtless to hide the scars."_ He thought to himself as he remembered a nickname one of father's household knight gave the King as they passed Harrenhal; King Scab.

"Tywin," Aerys buzzed as he wrapped his bony fingers around his Hand's neck, clasping a chain of golden hands around it, "It has been too long. Come, there is much you have missed."

"I would only be too happy, Your Grace, but alas; I must settle my household into the city once again."

"As you wish, though I will expect you at tomorrow's Small Council." He smiled, though something about him changed then. He seemed more hostile after that point. He turned to retreat into the Holdfast, calling Queen Rhaella with him and she went; albeit reluctantly, while the king was accompanied with six of his seven white cloaks. Father strolled of, talking with Ser Illyn and the Steward. Arraon was left wondering what he was supposed to be doing when he heard his voice for the first time.

"Boy." Was all he said, yet it was enough to get Arraon Hill's attention. He turned to see him. "_Ser Gerold, the White Bull." _he mused to himself, sounding like a maid. Immensely strong and as honourable as he was skilled with a sword. Named to the post of Lord Commander the year before the tragedy at Summerhall, nearly three years before Arraon was born. He had a short stubble of black hair and a square jaw, with lips that did not seem to turn upwards easily. His eyes were the infamous Hightower blue; supposedly taken from the sea itself by sailors of ten first men who landed at Battle Isle. His eyes seemed to be alert and constantly vigil, cruel as fathers could be yet there was a kindness to them. He was everything every boy wanted to be, yet what only a few could achieve. Arraon Hill would be one of them. "Come with me." He spoke with a strict tone that commanded respect. He sought to Daemon keep at his heels.

By the path they were taking, it became obvious that they were going to the white sword tower, the centre of the Kingsguard. Ser Gerold had mostly been silent on their trek through the Red Keep, only acknowledging gold cloaks and servants who silently bowed and moved to make way for the Kingsguard. The tower itself had its entrance guarded by a symbol above its door, seven swords guarding a crown. The immeasurable steps of the tower did not seem to faze Ser Gerold, through the same could not be said for Arraon. Finally, they came to the Lord Commander's office. They were surprisingly spare, yet spacious. Though the view of the sea was pleasant enough. Ser Gerold strode up to a desk at the back of the chamber and bode hi sit as he picked up a stack of papers, silently flicking through it. He sat down but did not even seem to notice he was there. He moved through several more letters before he shot his deep blue eyes at his own.

"You brought your beast with you." He observed, as he threw them down on the table. Arraon turned a glance to Daemon who gave him a rather pitiful look. "_Thought you'd be used to attention by now."_

"Yes, my lord."

"Your father tells me you killed the beast's bitch. A full grown pendric lioness. Not an easy feat to boast of for a boy who hasn't passed is tenth nameday." He spoke so briefly and vaguely, Arraon found it hard to tell if these were compliments about his prowess or observations about his character.

"Yes, although I couldn't have done it without my brother, Jaime."

"Hm, a brother's bond is a precious thing in this world."

"You have brothers yourself, don't you, my lord?" he asked directly and without reproach.

"That all depends on what you mean by brothers. There is Deynor and Leron at Oldtown, but there are my brothers of the Kingsguard. It is a greater honour than most people will ever achieve. Tell me, do you wish to join the order? Do you understand the weight of it?"

"Yes, my lord. Absolutely." He answered without hesitation. He knew all the names and all the stories about the order of the Kingsguard, it was his fate, his destiny!

"No, I do not think you do. Every boy in your shoes would likely say the same. IT is easy to preach devotion when there are no consequences for it. The vows would strip you of your own family and rights."

"I have no rights to give up." He had thought to himself, but before he could realise it he had burst it out on his own accord.

"Ah, I had almost forgotten. You're the Hand's baseborn, aren't you?"

"Yes, my lord." He confessed reluctantly.

"That doesn't matter so much. As long as you perform your duties admirably and ably, I care not."

"Duties?"

"As my squire; sharpen my sword, clean my armour, press my clothes, dress me for tourney and battle and fight under my standard in battle. Do all of this and more, and you will have earned your honoured knighthood."

"I will do all you would require of me and more, Lord Commander." He pledged.

"Good, you are dismissed for now but Ser Willem will expect you for drill on the morrow. When I have further need for you, I will call for you." He concluded as Arraon took that as his queue to leave. "_Squire to the Lord Commander…"_ he thought gleefully to himself as he departed the White Sword Tower. "_True, he may not be the most hospitable of knights but he is honourable. That much is clear. I will be one of his brothers soon enough, a Knight of the Kingsguard and Jaime will be lord one day. The Kings guard and the High Lord; how the bards will sing of us!"_


	7. Chapter 7- The Forlorn prince

**Chapter Seven**

The Forlorn Prince

As he sat huddled in a corner of his room, the flame of a candle flickering above him, he smiled as he moved onto another verse of the Great Bard's finest sonnets. "_Such a fascinating style and an intriguing rhyming scheme. My songs don't even come close to the scope of this. Entire battles and wars of the first men, inscribed down when there no Maesters to do it for them." _He turned the page over and realised the wax of the candle was about to go out. Right before it reached the end of its tenure. He cast a gaze up to see the last of the leaping flames disappear from view as the endless and enveloping darkness gathered around him. He sighed in despair as he oved up to try and find a new stick of wax to continue reading. It was a whole new world he could escape to; merriment, beautiful maidens and gallant Knights. Fearsome battles and righteous justice. It was one of his favourite pastimes and one of his natural escapes. "_It's an escape I need, especially when…Father."_ He had almost winced there to remember the day Father had lost his mind and overreacted, putting it mildly. The flames had almost kissed his own hair.

He found it especially hard to navigate around his chambers with no way to see, but what other choice did he have? He was forced to keep his curtains drawn whenever he pulled a book out. It was better to be safe than sorry when spiders were in the walls, though it was especially hard to find his way around the chamber. Fortunately, he found the drawer, but as luck would have it; it was entirely empty. He knew the staff would refill the wax drawer later, but they dare not enter his room now. "_Well, it looks like it might be a nice day outside…"_ he thought hopefully. He drew back the curtains and let the sun of the falling summer embrace his chambers with its glow.

It took only a moment to stride across the room and make his way out of it. He wore a tunic with the colours of his house emblazoned upon it. "_Red on black. Careful not to get __**that**__ mixed up."_ He thought to himself cheerily, as he reached for the top dragon's head clasp connecting his pitch black doublet across his body. He then realised that he was unsure as to what he should do. "_Well, Court is done for today so Lord Tywin will be in his study. Ser Willem will be in the yard. I wonder if Mother is in the Godswood today. She's been spending a lot of time there lately, and she hasn't looked the same in weeks."_ He thought sadly to himself as he moved out of the way of a castle maid, muttering apologies.

If he focused hard enough, his lady mother could appear more and more beautiful each time he was her but was all too aware that the delusion was false. Up until his fifth nameday, he had believed his mother was wonderful with her shining smiles and violet eyes. Though after that, he faltered in his belief of that. "_Had she always been that way or did Father only gain his cravings then?"_ he pondered to himself as he remembered her looks of distant wonder. Specifically to the cliffs that sat at the edge of the Gardens. She understood grief better than his Father did, and they shared sadness together, from time to time, lifting the burden from one another. Mother always overcame her grievances, her melancholy, she always came out stronger than ever. Though he did not fail to notice that her smiles had been ever receding since her last miscarriage.

"_Father has always been the opposite to that effect," _he thought to himself as his royal father's cold purple eyes looked upon him with naught but scorn. He had always tried to distance himself from some of the more influential figures from the history of his house, to avoid his father's ire. The Conqueror, the Cruel, the Young Dragon, the Dragonknight, the Anvil. His forefathers and those to whom he owed his legacy. Great warriors, strong and fierce men. "_Everything you are not,"_ a voice that sounded eerily like Father's iron scrapings whispered to him. Though, he could take heart at the others; The Conciliator, The Good, the Blessed. But alas, they were far too few to make the case for himself. He knew who he was, the prophecy was clear enough in that. The promised prince would be born from the line of the dragon, and a bleeding star would herald his coming. All the signs pointed to him, or his line at the very least. How to-

"My prince, are you quite alright?" a voice piped up and he looked up to see the Lord Commander of the City Watch.

"Yes, fine." He responded happily, yet brusquely, as the Commander went on his way and Rhaegar did the same. This was something that was happening more often now, he would trail off directionless and most interpreted it to mean that he was distant and far off. They were wrong about him on that count at least. He was sharper than they gave him credit for and if they knew they wouldn't dare jest about his reading. It was something else he had to put up with, when Father's ever watchful gaze was not focused on him, the pages and squires around him mocked his habits. At least, when they weren't around to petition his 'royal favour.'

"_No," _he eventually decided, "_I shouldn't go to mother now. Perhaps there is something interesting down in the lower cells?"_ He made his way through the halls of the Red Keep, taking the time to consider how confusing they might be for someone who was not accustomed to them but Rhaegar had spent most of his childhood traversing through them, even finding a few of the secret passages built by King Maegor, kept secret by him and forgotten by his respective successors. He made his way through several corridors to one such attraction, a wall with a candlestick imprinted with a two headed dragon. HE had thought it odd the first time he had observed it but when he ran his finger across the top of it, he felt a switch. When he flicked it, a wall panel had opened near the left of it. Now it felt as regular and rudimentary as any task he was able to set his mind to.

The stone walkway was beginning to fall apart showing the natural rock that they were built on. He knew how to dance his way around the traps and pits that were dotted around the corridor, which were surprisingly active for being over three hundred and fifty years old. Though, Rhaegar doubted his predecessor was like to take any chances with his own safety. He continued to move along down this path and eventually came to one of the huge caverns that made up the underworld beneath kings landing, above him the faint and distant sounds of the city reigned above him.

He made his way down the natural stepping stones in order to make his way across the lake with no real intent or purpose behind it. He almost fell into the unending waters but was quickly able to manoeuvre his way across once again. He held no ambitions about falling into those never ending depths; he could have sworn to the Gods he once heard something _moving_ down there. Eventually, he came to the end of that section and climbed up once again to the more familiar sight of the stone hallways that were formed by the hand of man.

Once again he traversed the seemingly endless walkway, going through the dark hall illuminated only by little pores coming from the ceiling. At the end, he pulled another handle back to find where he was. He did not recognise the place, but he could have guessed where it was. Not that far from where he had entered, if it was one of the great immeasurable number of empty cellars beneath the Red Keep. Nothing in this one but a sandy floor, but he skipped across it quickly enough before he left the room and tried to establish his location.

The hallway showered with growling dragons heads gave Rhaegar the impression that he was somewhere beneath the traitors walk, just across from the entrance to the dungeons. He continued to stroll through the hallway illuminated by dim torches. As he continued through the path he thought he heard his own voice become echoed back at him, he stopped to pause but then realised he could hear the voice of another someway long the hall. He pursued this path further and continued to try and find his voice, curious as to who could be this far in the complex of his father's castle.

Fear crept up on him as he glided across the hallway to hide behind a pillar covered with depictions of vines and weeds. Moments later, the white flash came blasting past him and he couldn't believe his eyes. A great beast that almost went to Rhaegar's waist, white of fur and blood in its eyes. It prowled along the corridor but barely seemed to acknowledge Rhaegar at all, he put his nose to the floor and started to sniff along the skirting boards for some purpose unknown to him. Eventually, the voice seemed to return to the hallways calling something he could only have presumed was the animal's name. What he now deduced must have been a legendary Pendric Lion continued to sniff along the bottom of the wall, Prince Rhaegar couldn't do anything but move against the wall for fear the beast would sense him. Eventually, the voice became much clearer. "Daemon! Here, to me!" the voice called before coming around the corner, passing Rhaegar by and moving towards the lion.

"Daemon, to me!" he exclaimed as he moved to pull the beast back from the wall. Within its mouth was an object unseen but the figure commanded the brute to drop it. As Rhaegar looked on the scene, he looked at him property. He could see he had straight and short golden hair accompanied with hazel eyes that sung of a deeper song. When the world is left to wonder, Beauty leaves me with such emotions to ponder-

"_Damnit, I have to stop doing that!"_ he scolded himself. Still out of view, the figure he determined must have been Ser Gerold's new squire and Lord Tywin's bastard. Arlon, or some such western name. He addressed the lion again. "Daemon, let it go. Now." He commanded but the lion cocked its head in response to its masters' demands. "Now." He repeated but it simply looked up at him with something of pity in his eyes. Hill looked down at the beast before breaking his composure and smiling. "Go on." He admitted, "You've been chasing that mouse all over the Red Keep." Then he swallowed as they turned back and for the first time, their eyes locked. Deep hazel and dark indigo. "Oh, hello." Was the first words that came out of his mouth, with the fur of the lion beneath the fingers of his right hand. "I didn't see you there. What are you doing so far down in the nadirs?"

"I might have asked you the same question." He responded, moving out from the wall

"This one has been chasing a mouse all over the castle since the break of dawn."

"To what end?" Rhaegar inquired of him.

"He's hungry, how should I know?" he laughed to his own solitude.

"He looks like he's ate enough by now." He smiled sadly, out of habit rather than force. He moved his hand towards the lion's head and for a moment, the Prince thought he might have snapped at him but it licked his fingers and rested his mane in his hand.

"I can see he likes you, and I trust his judgement."

"You trust an animal's instincts?"

"They say beasts have sharper senses than most men."

"True enough….. Forgive me, I didn't catch your name?"

"Arraon Hill." He responded, extending his hand. "_A bastard for sure."_ Rhaegar thought to himself.

"Prince-" he began, accepting the offer, but was just as suddenly cut off.

"Rhaegar Targaryen?" he finished for him, to Rhaegar's immense surprise.

"Well, it wasn't exactly hard to figure out." He smiled.

"What gave me away?"

"Purple eyes, platinum hair and clothes bearing the colours of your House." He offered.

"Fair enough." He conceded.

"You never said what you were doing down here exactly?" Arraon asked.

"Do I need a reason?"

"I would say so, Your Grace. Without just cause and reason for our actions, we become little more than mindless and barbaric savages."

"Very profound." Rhaegar observed as the two of them began to walk away.

"I heard it from my father, the Lord hand."

"I'm seen him at court from time by time." Rhaegar responded but silently realised that by '_time to time_' he meant almost every day court was held as his own sire was rarely seated upon the Iron Throne.

"At court? Truly, how does my father do?"

"He rules more effectively than my father for a certainty." Hill looked as if he was taken aback. "Is something wrong?"

"I've never heard someone renounce their own father so," he searched for the appropriate word "readily."

"You don't know the King." He murmured, but beneath his hand the lion whined and licked at his fingers again. The eyes looked less blood hungry now and more were more filled with passion and protectiveness. "He's very approachable." He observed.

"Not usually, he keeps to me but he seems to like you."

"Would you have any idea why?" Rhaegar asked.

"It's like I said; they have sharper instincts." Was his response.

"Well how long have you had him for?"

"Ah, I must have been…eight? Almost three years then."

"_He's one-and-ten and I am three-and-ten, yet he is clearly the elder of us."_ Rhaegar observed to himself silently. "And you would still trust him?"

"With my life, besides I wouldn't need to know that from Daemon. You seem pleasant enough to me anyway." He shrugged hazily.

For some reason, that took Rhaegar aback. He had been used to Knights and courtiers praising his virtues and requesting favours over the past ten years but when Arraon said those words they seemed more honest and trustworthy. "_They say bastards are born from lust and lies, do they grow up more honest as a result?"_

"Thank you."

"What for?" he asked surprised and seemingly confused, Rhaegar placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Honesty." He replied as he moved away. "Tomorrow, court will commence at midday and I would like you to be there."

"As…" he asked.

"One of my 'court companions."

"Among others?"

"Not many, a few sons of my father's friends, although it's usually just me and Jon."

"I will consider it before the morn."

"Thank you, Arraon. Oh, just one more thing."

"Yes?"

"You will have to leave your pet behind." _That_ made him much more defensive.

"Where Daemon goes; I go." He responded, unyielding and without any sense of withdrawal.

"Daemon? You named him after the Blackfyre Pretender, may I ask why?"

"You may if you're alright with me not giving you an answer. Not yet at least."

"Very well." He conceded. "I will look for you in the Throne Room."

"As you wish, Your Highness." He bowed before he turned to leave in the opposite direction. Rhaegar went the opposite way, feeling a peculiar sense of curiosity and satisfaction. For whatever reason, he found himself strangely interested in Arraon Hill. He smiled to himself.


End file.
